[Harry Potter] My Adoptive Father Is Sherlock Holmes

On a foggy night in November 1881, a wicker basket was left on the doorstep of 221B Baker Street.

Inside was a baby boy with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, along with a hastily scrawled letter claiming he was a wizard.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes glanced at the letter and tossed it into the fireplace.

“Magic,” he said, “is what people call the things they refuse to take the trouble to observe.”

Three minutes later, a teacup flew off the table.

Watson looked at him.

“...Let's rule out a draft first,” said the detective.

From then on, Baker Street had a new resident.

The boy who should have grown up on Privet Drive, spending ten years shut in a cupboard, instead grew up under the watchful eye of the world's greatest detective and his methods of deduction.

He learned to identify ashes and study the soles of shoes. After sneaking a piece of cake, he also learned to point out that there was no evidence proving he had done it.

Holmes was very pleased.

Mrs. Hudson was not.

On his eleventh birthday, an owl delivered a letter of admission to Hogwarts.

The wizarding world had finally welcomed back The Chosen One, only to discover that when faced with locked doors, suspicious professors, and mysterious diaries, the boy always asked:

“Who told you that?”

“Did you see it yourself?”

“Where are the original records?”

As for the man who had once declared that magic did not exist, he followed his son into the wizarding world too, naturally to investigate a case.

Who could have guessed that the first thing Harry Potter learned was not a spell, but observation? And that the first rule he was taught was not “Don't get into trouble,” but:

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Yet Mr. Holmes also discovered that some of the truths left over really did wear robes and carry wands, and were waiting for that boy to come home.

Theme: Family