Chapter 161: I Will Always Love You

Sherlock Forester was born in 1971, meaning that he was a mere six years old in 1977. The tragic death of his mother had occurred a year prior at Saint Mungo's Hospital, leaving him to move into the small house in Surrey she had left him. He had not ever lived with his father, not because of any unwillingness from Duke Cavendish to welcome him home, but because of the stipulations that he had put forth. The Duke had demanded that in order to live in the Cavendish household, young Sherlock must renounce his inherent magical abilities and not have any contact with the magical world.

Sherlock, who had already displayed magical tendencies in the year that his mother had passed, had naturally refused. Moreover, his unease around his father would have likely led him to continue living in the house his mother left him even if didn't have any magical talent. Even though Duke Cavendish was displeased with his son's decision, he didn't completely abandon him.

He hired a nanny to care of his son and had him enrolled in a Muggle primary school. Part of this was done in an attempt to distance Sherlock from the magical world, in hopes that he would establish friendships at school and lose any desire to attend a wizarding school. However, this also showcased that Duke Cavendish had a level of concern for his son - at the very least, he ensured that Sherlock received an education and adequate care during his childhood.

Fast forward to Sherlock, returning to the Leaky Cauldron with Snape, prepared for a good night's rest. The next morning, Amy, concealed by her invisibility cloak, snuck into Sherlock's room through the window. As Sherlock was washing his face in the bathroom, Amy entertained herself by swinging her legs from the chair on which she sat.

"Next time, you should come through the front door, Amy. Climbing around on the windowsill is dangerous, what if you slip and fall?" Sherlock cautioned, patting his face dry with a towel. Amy quirked her head, blinking innocently at Sherlock.

"Can Amy stay at your place tonight?" she asked.

Taken aback, Sherlock responded in confusion, "Why do you want to stay at my place, Amy?"

"I have a feeling that I might not be allowed to stay where I usually do..." she replied, her use of uncertain words like "feeling" and "might" juxtaposed strangely against the confidence in her tone, as though the matter had already been confirmed.

Sherlock ruffled her hair affectionately. "Of course, if you genuinely can't stay there, you are always welcome here."

He didn't give too much thought to this conversation, dismissing it as a possible case of a young girl feeling discomforted by the idea of sleeping alone in an empty room at night. His room had two beds anyways, so Amy could sleep there without any issue. Their habit of playing Wizard Chess was put on hold that day; while Sherlock was engrossed in the newspaper, Amy busied herself by transforming the old issues into origami crafts.

On his previous trips to Diagon Alley, Sherlock had purchased many old copies of The Daily Prophet from the junk shop. His intention was not only to acquire knowledge about the original owner's mother's, Sally Forester's, life but also to become up-to-date with the latest happenings surrounding the Death Eaters.

As for the issue of returning to his timeline, he surmised that the Ministry must hold exclusive access to the most recent magical research. As eager as he was to find a way to turn back time, Sherlock realized the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic would likely be the only useful source of information. That however was a problem, because gaining access to the employees in said department was no easy task.

Therefore, the most reliable method seemed to involve establishing links with someone in the Ministry of Magic first, which would hopefully create an opportunity to make contact with an employee from the Department of Mysteries later.

The most direct way to achieve this, he concluded, was through the Death Eaters. Their nefarious activities, which included wreaking havoc, tormenting muggle-born wizards, and fighting the Aurors, presented a desirable opening to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic. Rather than acquiring contacts from the Ministry of Magic, Sherlock was planning on directly joining the Ministry himself. (E/N.: for a second there I thought he was gonna join the Death Eaters lmao)

The wizarding world in Britain was lodged deep within a crisis. Lord Voldemort's forces of Death Eaters were on a rampage, resulting in an annual death toll of Aurors surpassing what any previous year had witnessed. Hence, the prerequisites for hiring Aurors were less stringent than before. Despite this, the Auror Command headquarters continually lacked adequate staffing. In their midst, aside from a few ambitious recent Hogwarts graduates as well as muggle-born wizards with long-term ambitions, hardly any adult wizards were willing to risk their lives in the service of the Ministry of Magic.

It seemed that wizards generally lacked a sense of identification with the governing body of the wizarding world. However, Sherlock's fake identity presented a problem here; he lacked any form of certificates to prove his wizarding abilities or his attendance at Hogwarts. Thus, even with the lowered standards for hiring at the Auror Headquarters based on Sherlock's current predicament, he wouldn't be able to follow the standard procedures.

Therefore, he contemplated some unconventional strategies such as aiding an Auror during a skirmish with the Death Eaters, in hopes of joining the Auror ranks while skipping the formal procedures. Once he became a member of the Ministry of Magic, connecting with the Department of Mysteries would become simpler. In preparation for this orchestrated "coincidence", Sherlock endeavored to study the recent movements of the Death Eaters. He aimed to decipher their patterns to forecast their subsequent moves and pinpoint their most likely strike targets.

However, the newspapers offered limited insight. It was, as Sherlock realized, soon nearing lunchtime and so he got up, telling Amy he would quickly go downstairs to grab some food. At the same time, Tom, accompanied by a middle-aged wizard, was making his way up the stairs.

"Oh, Mr. Watson," Tom greeted. "Your and your uncle's lunches have already been prepared. As per your request, your portions are a bit larger. I was going to bring them up in a moment, you don't always have to come down yourself."

He offered a welcoming smile at Sherlock before proceeding to guide the middle-aged wizard to the door of room 10. Sherlock watched silently from the side as Tom continued, "Mr. Williams, this here will be your room. If you need anything else just let me know, I'll be downstairs manning the bar of course." With that, Tom escorted the middle-aged wizard into room 10 and departed.

Sherlock took a thoughtful glance at room 10's shut door and resumed sitting next to Amy. The lively young lass seemed to sense the gravity in Sherlock's demeanor, and abandoned the paper airplane she had been fidgeting with, blinking at him, waiting for him to speak up.

"You said you wanted to stay here because you felt like room 10 might not be safe for you anymore, right?" he asked gently.

As Amy nodded, he continued to probe, "And you just had a feeling about that?"

She gave him a poised nod, and her lips curled up subtly in a coy smile, as she replied, "Daddy always told Amy her feelings were very reliable."

Sherlock found the situation almost too fantastical to believe, but Amy appeared neither deceitful nor dishonest. After pondering for some time, he decided to drop his concerns for now, giving her a reassuring pat on her head

"Well your feeling was correct, room 10 is occupied by a new arrival, so you'll be sleeping over today it seems."

Amy thanked him gratefully, her eyes blinking in approval, "Thank you, John."

"No worries, Amy." he waved dismissively, before continuing "Now tell me, what's your favorite thing to eat for lunch?"

"Amy isn't picky, Amy just wants to eat what John is having." Amy returned her attention to the half-folded paper in her hands. Sherlock had taught her how to make paper airplanes, and she was now attempting to refine its design so it could soar for longer durations.

Following their late lunch, Sherlock paid a brief visit to room 12, informing Snape that he would be stepping out for a short time. Retracing his steps back to his room, he donned his coat and resolved to visit the house his younger self should currently be living in.

Noticing his preparation to leave, Amy queried in a soft voice, "Can Amy join John?

Initially, Sherlock had planned to have Amy stay back at the inn, but catching her expectant expression, he relented. Their destination was just a surveillance trip, with no intention of performing any dangerous operations; thus, it was safe to bring Amy along.

However, he made it clear to her, "Alright you can come along, but remember that no one can recognize you so you have to hide your faces under broad hat like this one and not run around, okay?"

Obediently, Amy nodded and slipped under the Invisibility Cloak to ensure that no one would notice her leaving the Leaky Cauldron. The news regarding the visit of the two Death Eaters to the Leaky Cauldron in search of a little girl had traveled far and wide by now. Not only the Leaky Cauldron, other places too had witnessed the constant presence of Death Eaters searching for a young girl bearing the last name Butler.

Nonetheless, without an image or detailed physical description, no one could identify Amy merely by her looks. Still, if Amy were to suddenly present herself at the Leaky Cauldron at this point, it would undoubtedly raise eyebrows. Ergo, whenever she ventured out, Amy was compelled to shroud herself in the Invisibility Cloak. In the Muggle world, though, such precautions were unnecessary.

While covered by the cloak, Amy held onto Sherlock's arm so that he could tell that she was still following him. Leaving the Leaky Cauldron, they soon found themselves in a quiet London alleyway. In this more secluded location, Amy handed Sherlock the cloak, asking for his help stowing it away. The young girl, with an apparent lack of experience being outdoors, displayed curiosity towards everything around her. Yet, her grey wizard's robe stood out amongst the Muggle attire. Noticing this, Sherlock conjured a wide-brimmed sun hat for Amy, which he delicately positioned on her head. Together, they visited a children's clothing store where Sherlock bought her more contemporary clothes. Now, dressed in her new dress and the oversized sun hat, Amy looked delightful, as though she had just stepped out of a fairy tale. The girl looked up at Sherlock with sincere gratitude, "Amy really likes John's gift. Amy will ask her Daddy to buy a gift for John in return, okay?"

"You would do that? Wow, I can't wait to see what your gift will be," Sherlock Forester feigned excitement warmly.

London was reputed for its melancholic fog, a trait that was beginning to dissipate in the 1970s but still lent the city a somewhat oppressive ambience. Because the timelines differed, they couldn't simply use the Apparition to reach Sherlock's home, necessitating alternate modes of transport. Together with Amy, Sherlock journeyed to the iconic King's Cross Station and boarded a train to Little Whinging in Surrey. Opting not to summon the Knight Bus was a decision made not just for Amy; even Sherlock found the magical bus too jolt-y to stomach. Besides, the neighboring Surrey was only about an hour from London via train, making this a more pleasant alternative.

After disembarking the train, Sherlock bought a few lollipops from a vendor near the station before hopping into a taxi, which brought them to his younger self's residence. The two-story house was almost identical to the one Sherlock had observed fourteen years later. The walls were draped in ivy and garden plants had been allowed to run wild, festooned with weeds, painting the picture of a somewhat neglected edifice.

Present-day young Sherlock was still at school, there was still time before the holiday started, and the nanny his father had hired seemed absent, leaving the property in a tranquil silence. Sherlock produced his wand with a flick of his wrist, lightly tapped the locked and rusted iron gate of the yard, employing an unlocking charm to open it, and walked in with Amy. Amy held her lollipop in one hand and tilted her head up in puzzlement.

"Is this John's house?"

"Partly," Sherlock answered quietly, looking around the yard.

Perplexed by Sherlock's vague answer, Amy studied the yard and house in detail but chose not to press him further for clarification. Instead, they paced through the deserted yard, Sherlock using the unlocking charm on every closed door they encountered on their way into the house. Inside, everything was remarkably tidy – a state young Sherlock would never have maintained himself – which indicated that the nanny was likely both diligent and responsible. As it would appear fourteen years later, the decor within the house remained largely the same. Sherlock guided Amy through the living room, then up the staircase to the magical study.

To his surprise, there was a door at the end of the corridor, just like in the future, only that it looked like all the other doors in the house.  Upon opening it, they found it crammed with stacks of boxes full of old household items, taking up the character of a typical utility room.

It became apparent to Sherlock that the magical study, which he would go on to use later in his life, had not originally existed in the house, but was a creation of the original owner after he had grown up. This wasn't what he had speculated. He had always thought that the magical study was inherited from the original owner's mother, foreseeing some vestiges of her magical life scattered within the childhood home of a wizard, typically in the form of magical books or artifacts. Now, he was exploring a different trail of thought: if the study was actually constructed by the original owner himself, had his mother, Sally Forester, not left any traces of her life in this house?

Such questions began to spark Sherlock's curiosity. His investigative instincts took control and he began a methodical search of the room, convinced there was something that eluded his gaze. Most of what he had found so far were fragments of the original owner's life, with the exception of the bizarre portrait. It was also plausible that his mother, Sally Forester, had deliberately chosen not to leave anything behind, but Sherlock wasn't easily convinced.

Despite combing the house from top to bottom, his search rendered fruitless. As disappointment began to cloud his spirit, Amy, who had been following him around, voiced her confusion. "Is John looking for something?"

Exhaling a resigned sigh, Sherlock responded, "Yes, he is, but he can't find it."

Amy scanned the room, then turned back to Sherlock, decisively stating, "There is nothing unusual here, Amy thinks that what John is looking for may be outside."

Caught off guard by Amy's assertiveness, Sherlock remembered seeing her display a similar, maybe magical, intuition at the Leaky Cauldron today, which was oftentimes more accurate than a typical person's perception. Trusting her, he decided to step out of the house to investigate the outdoor area, only to be stopped by Amy. Emerged from her stubborn hold of his arm, she pointed confidently at the left side of the building. "Something seems off here," she claimed.

Guided by Amy over to the wall blanketed with ivy, Sherlock scrutinized the old bricks carefully. Nothing seemed amiss to him at first. Yet, Amy's intuition, without any tangible evidence, prompted him to draw his wand, tapping it on each reachable brick on the wall expectantly. After tapping the thirteenth brick in the seventh row from the bottom, a sudden shift materialized before them, revealing a hollow circular gap in the lawn. Sherlock's excitement was palpable as he lightly ruffled Amy's hair, exclaiming, "Amy, you're a true gem!"

A hint of pride flickered across Amy's face; however, she remained stoic and didn't smile. Indeed, Sherlock noticed, she had never really smiled during their short acquaintance.

Together, they descended into the opening in the lawn, leading them down a long stairwell for about five minutes until they reached an underground room that, once they entered, lit itself with surrounding candles. With a size no larger than a dozen square meters, the chambers consisted of miscellaneous books stuffed into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. At the center of the study stood a simple desk under which lay a magic notebook. Picking it up, Sherlock started reading:

"…So far, when it comes to soul research, I have exhausted all leads. The soul imprint residing within Sherlock is my last gift for him. I hope he will never have a reason to use it, or even discover its existence. Dumbledore and others have rested their hopes on me, and I must now abandon Sherlock's side. If everything progresses as planned, matters should normalize. If things go astray, I can only hope Sherlock remains safe. Looking back I can't deny that I have failed both as a mother and a wife. But every decision was mine to make and each of them was made for their own reasons. I have written almost everything I wanted to write, so let this notebook stay here. Oh and… If one day, you manage to find this place, Sherlock, regardless of what becomes of me… just know that I will always love you."

(E/N.: almost 3k words holy shit dude..)