Sherlock's talent for magic was exceptionally high.
Otherwise, even with the Original Owner's muscle memory, it would have been impossible to reach such a level of magical ability in such a short time if his talent had been mediocre.
But even with extraordinary talent, even someone of Dumbledore's calibre could not simply alter Soul magic, which was an extremely advanced and particularly obscure branch of magic.
This was not a task that could be completed in a short time, especially without other Soul magic to help him draw inferences, making the difficulty even greater.
Therefore, Sherlock was not in a hurry about this matter. He could only do his best. As for whether there would be a good result in the end, he would have to leave it to fate.
After studying Soul magic in the hotel for an afternoon, Sherlock walked out of his room, preparing to find something to eat.
Just as he stepped outside, a dark-haired young man with a slightly pale complexion also emerged from the room opposite.
The two glanced at each other, naturally looked away, and then walked in opposite directions.
Sherlock paid little attention to the young man he had just met, assuming he was simply another guest, so he went downstairs for dinner.
But after Sherlock turned and left, the young man looked back at him, his brows furrowed in confusion as he muttered a name.
"Amy..."
Meanwhile, one floor above Sherlock's room, more than a dozen Wizards in black robes had gathered inside a hotel room.
Almost every one of them wore an iron mask engraved with strange patterns that gave off a chilling aura.
In the corner of the room lay the bodies of a Muggle father and son, their faces frozen in terror. They had long since stopped breathing.
"I hope this is the end of our trip." Bella's hoarse, wavering voice echoed through the small hotel room. "We've been entangled with this bug for long enough, and the Dark Lord is already growing impatient."
Only two people in the room were not wearing masks: Bellatrix Lestrange and her brother-in-law, Rabastan Lestrange.
After Bella finished speaking, one of the masked Death Eaters spoke in a muffled voice.
"He can't escape. Tonight is when he dies. The only issue is the Ministry of Magic's arrangements..."
"Well said, Lucius!" Bella flashed a ferocious grin. "This bug can no longer keep running around. We've already been merciful enough to let him live this long. As for the Ministry of Magic, they'll make their move by tomorrow at the latest."
Rabastan leaned against the wall, idly toying with the ornate handle of his wand.
"Cause as much chaos as possible. We need to attract the attention of those Aurors."
"How about blowing up this building?" a masked voice suggested loudly.
A burst of harsh, mocking laughter filled the quiet room.
Bella licked her blood-red lips, her eyes gleaming with excitement and madness.
"You've only just joined us, Goyle. You're still not used to our style. One building isn't nearly enough... I want every Muggle on this entire street dead!"
...
Dinner was less than satisfying. Sherlock had never been fond of British cuisine. When he was at home, he would usually cook some simple English dishes himself, but now he could only make do with whatever was available.
After dinner, he did not return to the hotel immediately. Instead, he wandered along the street where he had previously spotted Auror patrols before eventually heading back.
It was eight o'clock, and the sky had grown completely dark. Because of the economic downturn, Sheffield had almost no nightlife. People had long since returned home, worrying about how they would make a living the next day.
As Sherlock approached the hotel entrance, the relaxed expression on his face suddenly disappeared.
He looked into the hotel lobby.
It was completely empty.
Even the front desk, which always had someone on duty, was deserted.
Sherlock frowned, immediately sensing that something was wrong.
This hotel wasn't the finest in Sheffield, but it certainly wasn't some small inn either. It usually had plenty of guests coming and going. Such an eerie scene, with not even a receptionist in sight, was clearly abnormal.
He activated his Control Magic.
As long as something was within ten metres, even through walls, he could perceive his surroundings in an alternative way.
Very quickly, he realised that every Muggle who had been staying on the second floor had disappeared. In the short time he had been out for dinner, the entire hotel had seemingly been emptied, leaving only him behind.
The silence made every one of Sherlock's footsteps echo throughout the lobby.
This bizarre situation could not possibly be the result of some Muggle television prank.
There was only one spell in the Wizarding World capable of producing such an effect.
The Muggle-Repelling Charm.
Sherlock quietly lightened his footsteps and slowly climbed the staircase, extending the range of his Control Magic as he moved.
Soon, he finally detected signs of life.
Someone was inside a room on the second floor.
It was directly opposite Sherlock's own room.
The occupant was the pale-faced, dark-haired young man he had encountered earlier.
Sherlock remained calm and continued upstairs.
As he reached the landing between the first and second floors, he discovered many more people.
Through the unique perception granted by his Control Magic, he could clearly "see" Wizards dressed in black robes and eerie iron masks.
He also saw the cold corpses of the Muggle father and son lying on the floor.
At the same time, Sherlock recognised Bella's face.
He knew that face well.
Her photograph had appeared countless times on the front page of The Daily Prophet.
As Lord Voldemort's most notorious lieutenant, Bellatrix Lestrange was infamous throughout the Wizarding World for her cruelty and viciousness. Now that Lord Voldemort rarely acted personally, she had become the madwoman everyone feared most.
The moment Sherlock recognised Bella, he immediately judged the identities of everyone gathered in the room.
The dozen Wizards were all Death Eaters.
Because prolonged use of Control Magic placed an enormous strain on his mind, Sherlock rarely used it to monitor his surroundings continuously unless absolutely necessary.
As a result, he had never expected that the Muggle hotel where he was staying had also been chosen as a Death Eater hideout.
And it was directly above his room.
However, Sherlock frowned again.
The Death Eaters would never have cast the Muggle-Repelling Charm to evacuate everyone from the hotel.
These followers of Lord Voldemort never regarded Muggles as people. To them, Muggles were merely livestock to be slaughtered at will. They would have been delighted to kill even more of them.
Therefore, the only person who could have cast the Muggle-Repelling Charm was the dark-haired young man staying opposite Sherlock's room.
He had to be the Death Eaters' target.
Sherlock stopped on the landing, narrowed his eyes, and recalled the information he had overheard from Moody.
During the battle in Wales a month earlier, besides the four Aurors who had been killed, there had also been one Auror suspected of defecting to the Dark Lord.
Moody, however, had never believed the accusation.
In his opinion, the Wizard named "Eddie" was not someone who would betray his comrades.
Could this dark-haired young man be the Eddie the Aurors had been searching for?
Was he also the Death Eaters' target?
Had he never betrayed the Ministry of Magic at all?
And why had he cast the Muggle-Repelling Charm?
As these questions surfaced in Sherlock's mind, he quickly reached several conclusions.
Apart from himself, the only people left in the hotel were the Death Eaters and the dark-haired young man.
If they had not been pursuing a specific target, those pure-blood fanatics who despised Muggles would never have chosen to stay in a Muggle hotel.
Their target certainly wasn't Sherlock. At this point in time, he was still a complete nobody in the Wizarding World and hardly worth such an elaborate ambush.
That left only the young man.
Once the second question had an answer, the first and third followed naturally.
Someone capable of making the Death Eaters go to such lengths could not possibly be one of their own.
If he wasn't, then the possibility that he was Eddie became extremely high.
This Auror, believed to have betrayed the Ministry, had in fact been fleeing from the Death Eaters all along.
But then another question arose.
Why hadn't he returned to the Ministry of Magic to clear his name?
Surely his supposed betrayal would have been disproved the moment he returned, and he would have been placed under protection.
Sherlock couldn't answer that question yet, but he could answer another.
It wasn't Sherlock.
It wasn't the Death Eaters.
So the Muggle-Repelling Charm could only have been cast by the dark-haired young man.
He had wanted to prevent the coming battle from endangering the Muggles inside the hotel.
But how had he known a battle was coming?
Unless he had already discovered the Death Eaters' ambush and had prepared for it in advance.
Sherlock's brows gradually relaxed.
He paced slowly on the landing, considering how he should respond.
A moment later, he made up his mind.
He no longer concealed his footsteps.
Instead, he walked openly up to the second floor, his footsteps echoing clearly through the empty corridor.
He glanced briefly at the closed door opposite his room before unlocking his own door and stepping inside.
Sherlock withdrew his Control Magic.
He needed to conserve his strength for the battle that could break out at any moment.
Time passed slowly.
Outside, the streets grew quieter and quieter as night settled over the city.
No stars could be seen.
As one of Britain's most famous industrial cities, Sheffield suffered from pollution no less severe than London's. The sky above was permanently veiled by a blanket of grey smog.
Sherlock lay quietly on the bed, waiting.
Roughly four hours later, as the clock struck midnight, faint movement came from the floor above.
Sherlock immediately sat up in silence.
The wands he had already taken from his pocket spread throughout the room, more than fifty of them hovering in the air.
Using his Control Magic, he manipulated the wands while simultaneously monitoring everything within a ten-metre radius.
He "saw" the Death Eaters divide into three groups.
One group mounted flying broomsticks and positioned themselves outside the dark-haired young man's window.
The other two groups approached his room from opposite ends of the corridor.
At the same time, four Death Eaters cast an Anti-Apparition Ward, sealing off the entire street and preventing anyone from Apparating or Disapparating.
However, Sherlock discovered that the young man's room was completely empty.
Only a few small spheres lay scattered across the floor, while a black suitcase rested on the bed.
At the agreed signal, the Death Eaters burst through both the window and the door.
The instant they entered, the small spheres began rolling across the floor as though a hidden trigger had been activated.
White smoke rapidly filled the room.
Before the Death Eaters could recover from the sudden loss of visibility, the black suitcase sprang open.
A shrill, piercing cry rang through the room.
A long, feathered, snake-like creature with a pair of wings burst out of the suitcase, growing rapidly until its body filled almost every corner of the room as it savagely attacked the intruders.
"He's not here! There's an Occamy!"
"Get out! Get out! The mist is mixed with Draught of Living Death!"
"Damn it! He knew we had other ways of tracking him!"
Panicked shouts echoed through the corridor.
Completely unprepared for the trap, the Death Eaters fled from the room, escaping both the poisonous gas and the rampaging Occamy.
"Rabastan! Find him! Hurry!" Sherlock heard Bella shriek.
A Wizard cried out in panic.
"He's gone! The spell's been removed!"
"Impossible! He couldn't have broken that magic so quickly on his own!"
"But it's gone! I can't track him!"
"You useless fools! Idiots! Take everyone and blow up this entire street immediately! Draw every Auror here!"
The Death Eaters mounted their broomsticks and sped away from the hotel.
Violent explosions erupted throughout the surrounding streets.
Sherlock frowned.
He didn't understand what Bella had meant.
If they had already lost their target, why deliberately attract every Auror in the area?
Chaos erupted outside.
Countless people were jolted awake by the deafening explosions.
But Sherlock remained perfectly still.
Because through his Control Magic, he sensed that after the Death Eaters had departed, a lone figure returned to the hotel.
The figure walked directly to Sherlock's room and knocked gently on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.