Kapitel 114: Chapter 114: Happy Birthday, Harry

The wand poised in the air shivered for an instant before regaining its stability, continuing to float undisturbed.

Sherlock Forester idly ran his fingers over his cleft chin, musing over the scenario that unfolded in front of him. The counter spell he had cast was definitely having an influence on the regulation of magic, only slightly, but it was there nonetheless. He speculated that this minute modification resulted from his miraculous soul healing and the resultant advanced magical aptitude he had developed.

Generally, a wizard employing an advanced spell would find it paralleling an ordinary spell's effect, leaving the regulation of magic untouched. However, raising the bar to where multiple wizards band together to leverage an advanced spell could potentially disrupt Sherlock's distinctive magical control completely.

Nevertheless, such a scenario was highly implausible. Unless Voldemort was brought back from the dead and restored of his full power, a battlefield teeming with wizards remained an unlikely possibility. Therefore, Sherlock affirmatively opined that his "Levitating Wand Casting System", centered around the intricate control of magical might, was indeed a viable approach. This amalgamation of spell dynamics was potent enough for Sherlock to address the majority of scenarios and ensured he had his defensive bases covered in the world of wizardry.

Sherlock eyed the levitating wand in satisfaction. This novel way of casting spells had spurred numerous potentialities in his imaginative mind. In addition to petrifaction spells, stunning spells, and disarming charms, which relied on hitting the enemy directly to deliver their effects, there also existed an explosive charm, an original wide-scale offensive magic.

Albeit employing this magical control for casting spells somewhat diminished their potency, who in their right mind could endure the ensuing onslaught and deafening explosion caused by hundreds of wands all casting exploding charms?

As Sherlock mulled over the potential enhancements of this spell-casting procedure and the myriad of eventualities it could offer, a sudden brainstorm struck him. What if he were able to summon the Patronus Charm through his control magic? Would it manifest multiple Patronuses? (E/N.: Patroni? Patronuses? idk.)

Intrigued by his sudden idea, he wasted no time in putting it to the test. Adjusting the floating wand to mirror his previous success with summoning a Patronus, both wands swayed concurrently in the air while Sherlock pronounced the magical incantation.

"Expecto Patronum."

The subsequent instant flooded the study in a radiant silver glow. Twin beams of silver brilliance burst forth from the tips of the wands, coalescing into two palm-sized ravens in the haunting luminosity. The ravens flapped their wings and descended onto Sherlock's broad shoulders.

Sherlock, his eyes widening in surprise, extended an arm and watched as the two little ravens hopped onto it. He marveled at the two corporal Patronuses, seemingly split from thread-like strands of magic, a rarity in wizarding history.

He hadn't anticipated actualizing a parallel Patronus conjuring in this manner. According to his previous conjectures, casting spells through control magical would compromise their efficacy, potentially resulting in the inability to materialize a Patronus. Miraculously, this didn't happen. The Patronuses did take physical form, albeit in a smaller size than intended.

Previously, his Patronus had been roughly the size of a common A4 sheet of paper, now they were merely the palm-sized. Although their size was lesser than initially expected, the fact that he could summon them successfully was overwhelming.

If two wands could conjure Patronuses, that meant he could do the same with ten, twenty, or even a hundred wands! It was an acceptable compromise, slight size reduction for a substantial increase in quantity.

As dusk approached, Sherlock concluded his experimental spellcasting session rather contentedly. In light of the day's discoveries, he prepared a casual celebratory dinner in his kitchen. Thus, the day concluded on a high note, filled with anticipation for upcoming magical ventures.

...

The following day, July 31st, early morning.

Sherlock returned from his daily morning jog and commanded his dual wands, one inside the house and the other outside, to meticulously clean up his yard, adding a touch of freshness to the already pristine surroundings.

He chose to dine al fresco for lunch, after which he visited a confectionery to order a cake. He also reserved some takeout from a nearby restaurant for the evening.

Back at his abode, he enlivened his surroundings with colorful ribbons and festive balloons, creating an ambiance of cheerfulness. At precisely three in the afternoon, he found himself at 4 Privet Drive, knocking on the Dursleys' door.

Vernon Dursley, who opened the door, wore a grimace. Clearly, Harry had informed him beforehand about spending his birthday at Professor Forester's.

Upon seeing Sherlock at the door, Vernon didn't put up any pretense of politeness but boldly roared upstairs, "Get down here already, you good-for-nothing!"

Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together at Vernon's harsh tone but restrained himself from making a cutting retort.

On the other hand, Harry remained unfazed by Vernon's blatant rudeness, as he was quite accustomed to it.

Excitedly, he clambered down the stairs before Sherlock greeted him with a congenial smile. "Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry's bright smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his springy steps replaced with a sluggish pace. However, he quickly took heart, reminding himself of an earlier incident in the streets of Paris. He had validated that Professor Forester's prophecies of bad luck had seemingly stopped working, or rather instead of the opposite of his prediction happening it now seemed like they worked like actual prophecies!

Sherlock had wished him a happy birthday, and that meant Harry was destined to have a delightful birthday! His jovial grin made a comeback on his face.

Vernon stared incredulously at Harry, who had walked out of the house, his eyes widening like a startled frog.

"Do not forget what I told you! You aren't to return till midnight! Did you hear me?" Vernon growled violently.

Harry dismissed his hostility with a casual flick of his hand, saying nonchalantly, "Got it, got it."

With that, he cheerfully trotted alongside Sherlock, leaving Privet Drive behind.

During their stroll, Sherlock inquired, "Did he just tell you 'not' to return before midnight? Shouldn't he be telling you not to come back too late?"

"Because Aunt Marge is due to visit for a week," Harry explained. "Actually Aunt Marge is Uncle Vernon's sister but they've forced me to address her as aunt as well.."

"She's spent time at our house before, and she detests me. Last time she visited, she brought her stupid dog who she watched chase me up a tree. They all watched me and laughed. I had to sit up there until she finally left, took them even longer than usual to finish their dinner that day and that's saying something.."

Harry narrated the incident with an indifferent air, not letting his underlying heartache surface. He had long grown accustomed to such derision. He felt like he was always cast as the undesirable, the evil influence at the Dursleys' household.

"Anyways they thought I'd return a week later than I did from our trip, so they told Aunt Marge to visit early so she could avoid seeing me. But my early return caught them off guard, so they ordered me to stay away and not disturb them, only returning when Aunt Marge was ready to sleep."

Sherlock assimilated the information without interrupting him.

In his previous life, Sherlock had grown up in an orphanage. But even the residents of the orphanage enjoyed more respect than what Harry received from his relatives.

"Hats off to you, Harry, you actually are quite amazing," Sherlock remarked as they ambled together.

This caught Harry off guard, and he responded, slightly embarrassed, "Everyone always tells me I'm amazing, that I'm the chosen one. People keep thanking me, but honestly, I think Voldemort's downfall had nothing to do with me..."

"That's not what I meant," Sherlock clarified earnestly. "Even without the your savior or chosen one title, you are a remarkable individual yourself. Very resilient."

He added with a shrug, "Of course, you'd do well to tone down your playfulness a bit. Invest more time into studying magic, and you'll become a great wizard."

"Hermione has already lectured me about this countless times at school."

"That only confirms how clever she is," Sherlock responded. "By the way, do you want me to invite her and Ron over today? I could fetch them."

"Don't bother, the Weasleys are on a holiday to Egypt, while Hermione is vacationing in France. It's a shame I only found out today, otherwise, we could have met up with her and her family in France."

While they were discussing his friends, a hasty-looking owl made an appearance from afar and dropped a letter over them. The envelope bore Sherlock's name.

Puzzled, Sherlock picked up the letter and quickly scanned its contents.

As he reached the conclusion, his eyebrows furrowed in deep contemplation. "Harry, something unexpected has come up," he declared.

Harry felt a chilling sensation overcome him as he recollected Sherlock's birthday greeting just five minutes back at the Dursleys' doorstep, perhaps his jinxes only worked in Britain?

"What happened, Professor?"

"I apologize in advance, but it seems we might not be able to spend your birthday together as I had planned. A dear friend of mine is in desperate need of my assistance," Sherlock explained cautiously, not wishing to negate his promise to Harry, but the gravity of the issue expounded in the letter was something he could not simply brush aside.

Harry took a moment to process the unpleasant development, then turned to Sherlock with a pleading look, "Can I at least stay at your house till midnight?"

Sherlock looked grave as he responded, "Given the current circumstances, I am sorry, Harry, but I cannot leave you by yourself at the house. It's just too dangerous."

Although dejected, Harry endeavored to keep up a brave front. "It's all right, Professor. I'm grateful enough that you thought of inviting me over for my birthday."

Harry didn't burden Sherlock with any further requests and turned to trudge back towards the Dursleys'.

Against the backdrop of the setting sun, Harry's silhouette appeared sorrowful and utterly desolate.

Sherlock glanced at the letter again, tapped his forehead in frustration, and after some deliberation, shook his head. "If you don't mind spending your birthday at the Ministry of Magic, I can take you along with me."

Harry executed an abrupt turn with a beaming face. "I don't mind at all, Professor! Anywhere is better than at the Durselys'!"

Sherlock sighed and cautioned, "When we reach the Ministry, I might not have time to accompany you, you might have to spend some time alone."

Harry dismissed his concern nonchalantly, "I don't mind. I have never been to the Ministry of Magic, it'll be fun!"

"Well, then, let's proceed. Hold my arm, and I'll apparate us to the Ministry."

Harry energetically gripped Sherlock's arm. He wasn't positive that jinxing talent had disappeared, but he was sure that this would turn out to be the most exciting birthday he'd ever had.