Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 462 The Ministry of Magic is Full of Talent

Sherlock discovers that the destination they reached via the Portkey is like a vast and desolate swamp.

Thick fog, like a heavy white veil, permeated every inch of space. The damp air carried the scent of earth and decaying plants, and when it hit our faces, it brought a chilling sensation.

Not far in front of them stood two wizards, looking exhausted and with faces so gloomy they looked like they were about to burst into tears.

One of them was clutching a large gold watch, its dial reflecting a faint light through the fog.

The other held a thick roll of parchment, with a quill pen in his hand, the tip hovering above the pages, seemingly ready to record at any moment.

The phrase "6:08, from the Ministry of Magic" was spoken by the man with the gold watch, his voice heavy with weariness.

It's clear the two were trying hard to dress up as Muggles, but the result was a bizarre and comical mess.
The man with the gold watch wore a mushy floral print suit jacket, made of decent material, but underneath he wore a pair of thigh-high rubber overshoes with mud splattered on the edges.

The one with the parchment and quill pen wasn't much better off; he wore a Scottish-style pleated kilt with the hem hanging loosely, but over it was a brightly colored South American cloak, the edges of which fluttered wildly in the wind.

Good morning, Basil.

As Pisgood spoke, he picked up the boot and handed it to the wizard in the pleated skirt.

The man took the boots and casually tossed them into a large, open box next to him—it was filled with used door keys.

Sherlock glanced around and spotted the old newspapers, the deflated soda cans, the torn soccer ball...

What these things have in common is that they are all common everyday objects, and each one is broken and old, the kind that no one would even glance at if it fell on the ground.

“Not good at all, Arnold.”

Basil said weakly, rubbing his sore eyes:
“We’ve been guarding this place all night, you’d better move aside.”

According to the plan, a large group of people will arrive from the Black Forest at 6:15.

Wait a minute, tell me your names so I can find your campsite…

“No need, Basil,” Pisgood waved his hand with a smile. “They are all guests of Minister Fudge. I will personally take them there.”

"The minister's guest?"

Upon hearing this, both wizards looked surprised, their eyes widening slightly.

Their gazes swept across the faces of the crowd, and they easily noticed the exceptionally handsome Sirius.

Even in an ordinary coat, his arrogant demeanor was undeniable.

Then they saw Harry, and the two wizards gasped, their eyes widening in shock.

Sirius Black!

"And Harry Potter!"

Having been in the wizarding world for four years, Harry had grown accustomed to the curious stares people gave him when they first met him.

Of course, they were also used to them immediately focusing their attention on the scar on his forehead.

Even so, he still felt very uncomfortable whenever such a thing happened.

Sirius, on the other hand, seemed indifferent.

"Let's go, didn't you say a large group of people were coming soon?"

"Wait a minute!"

Ginny quickly called out, "Could you please help me find out where the Weasleys' camp is?"

"Weasley?"

Basil glanced at the four red-haired young wizards—Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny—and immediately realized:

"You're Arthur's children, aren't you? He's not on duty? Sigh, some people are really lucky..."

He grumbled a couple of times, then lowered his head, his fingers slicing rapidly across the parchment, searching for a name:

"Weasley...Weasley...Found him!"

Walk along this road for about a quarter of a mile, and the first field ahead is it; the campsite manager is Mr. Roberts.

Hearing Basil's words, Pisgood smiled and turned to Sirius:

"Coincidentally, the camp that the Ministry of Magic arranged for you is also nearby."

"It's not a coincidence at all."

Sherlock shook his head, his tone certain, "This was clearly intentional."

After he said that, everyone realized that this was obviously a deliberate arrangement because of Harry and Sirius's identities.

Their gazes toward the two men were filled with admiration.

Next, led by Pisgood, the group traversed a desolate swamp.

The thick fog, like milk that wouldn't dissolve, blurred the surrounding scenery into a blur, making visibility extremely low. The muddy ground underfoot was slippery and difficult to walk on, requiring careful steps with every step.

After walking for about twenty minutes, the fog began to dissipate slightly, and they gradually saw a simple wooden door in front of them, behind which was a low stone house.

Harry's static vision was the worst among the group. He squinted and could barely make out hundreds of strangely shaped tents behind the stone house.

Some look like overturned teapots, some like colorful mushrooms, and others like curled-up animals.

These tents stretched up the gentle slope of the large area, all the way to the edge of the dark forest on the horizon.

Sherlock's eyesight was much better. He only glanced at the area and had already taken in the layout. His gaze lingered briefly on the distribution of the tents and the paths, and he understood everything.

When they reached the entrance, they found a man standing there with his back to them, staring blankly at the tents.

He was dressed in an ordinary jacket and jeans, and was thin. Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione, three Muggle-born wizards, could tell at a glance that he was the only real Muggle in this large area.

Upon hearing their footsteps, the man immediately turned around, his face showing wariness and suspicion.

Good morning, you must be Mr. Roberts?

“Yes, who are you?” Mr. Roberts’ voice had a heavy local accent.

“I am Pisgood, and I have booked two tents for Mr. Blake. I need you to tell me where they are.”

"let me see……"

Mr. Roberts said, glancing at a table posted on the door, “Well, I’ve already paid. Just keep going straight down this road, turn right at the second intersection, and you’ll see it.”

"Thank you, let's go!"

"Has a Mr. Weasley been here?" Harry asked.

"Weasley, I don't recognize him... Let me check again..."

He looked at the form again. "Well, Mr. Weasley did book two tents two days ago, but he didn't pay for them. Now there's only one spot available at the edge of the woods. Are you planning to pay and go there now?"

"It seems Dad hasn't arrived yet."

Ron said with some disappointment upon hearing this.

Fred shrugged and said dismissively, "I bet he'll Apparate over with Bill and Charlie."

“Yes, he’s completely forgotten about us,” George joked.

Just then, a familiar voice came from behind them, "Hey, kids, wait for me!"

"It's Dad!"

Ron and Ginny exclaimed in surprise.

The group turned around and saw Mr. Weasley running towards them from the direction they had come from, his red hair standing out against the mist.

He ran up to the group, bent over, hands on his knees, panting heavily, and said haltingly, "I was... I was going to Apparate here with Bill and the others... but then I suddenly remembered... you guys came over with the Portkey first..."

"Arthur!"

Sirius suddenly interrupted Mr. Weasley, while giving him a wink.

Mr. Weasley looked at Sirius with a puzzled expression, but when he followed Sirius's gaze to Mr. Roberts, he immediately understood.

Oh no, the other person is a Muggle!
"Ah...ah, I just woke up and was rambling, please don't mind me, so what's the situation now?"

“Now all that’s needed is for Dad to pay,” Fred laughed.

“Thank you for arriving in time; otherwise, we would have been homeless,” George said.

“Not at all, we have plenty of space over there,” Sirius said, greeting Mr. Weasley.

Pisgood laughed too. "How are you, Arthur? How have you been lately?"

"Ah, Arnold, it's wonderful that you brought them here!"

"I'm saying, are you going to pay or not?"

At this point, Mr. Roberts said somewhat impatiently.

"Ah—okay—no problem—I'll pay right now!"

Mr. Weasley stepped back a few paces and left the little stone house, gesturing for Harry to come to him.

"Help me, Harry."

He whispered, pulled a roll of Muggle money from his pocket, and separated the bills one by one:

"This one is—um—um—ten yuan?"
Oh, right, I saw the small number printed on it... so this one is five dollars?

"It's twenty yuan."

Harry lowered his voice to correct him, sounding somewhat uneasy.

Because he noticed that Mr. Roberts was trying hard to hear every word they were saying.

"Ah, I see... I didn't know these little pieces of paper..."

Are you a foreigner?

When Mr. Weasley returned with several correct bills, Mr. Roberts asked.

"Foreigner?"

Mr. Weasley repeated the sentence, puzzled.

"You're not the only one who doesn't know the value of money."

As Mr. Roberts spoke, he looked Mr. Weasley up and down. “Just ten minutes ago, two men offered me a gold coin as big as a hubcap.”

"Pfft~"

Hermione and Ginny both laughed.

"really?"

Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, seemed somewhat uneasy.

As Mr. Roberts fumbled for change in a tin can, he said slowly, “I’ve never seen so many people before. Hundreds of people have booked tents.”

"Is there something wrong with this?"

Mr. Weasley, unaware of the problem, reached out to take the change, but Mr. Roberts refused to give it to him.

Mr. Roberts looked at Mr. Weasley thoughtfully and said:
"I met countless foreigners today, from all over the world."

And it's not just foreigners, there are also many weirdos, you know?
There was this guy walking around in a pleated miniskirt and a South American cape.

Everyone immediately recognized that he was referring to Basil, the Ministry of Magic staff member they had just met.

Mr. Weasley, clearly unaware of the problem, asked anxiously:
"Ah...can't that be done?"

To be honest, he had actually planned to wear this when he went out today, but he gave up on it in the end.

But judging from the way this Muggle looks now, this seems to be a big problem.

"It was like... I don't know how to describe it... or maybe it was like playing tricks?"

Mr. Roberts said thoughtfully, "Those people were like they were attending a big party; they all knew each other, they..."

Before he finished speaking, a person suddenly descended from the sky and landed by the door of Mr. Roberts' stone house.

He was wearing baggy trousers, and you could tell at a glance that he was a wizard.

"Everything is forgotten!"

After landing, he didn't waste any words and immediately pointed his wand at Mr. Roberts, shouting sharply.

The next moment, Mr. Roberts, who had just been discussing things with them, lost focus and relaxed his brow.

His face showed a dazed and indifferent expression.

This is exactly what happens when a person's memory is altered.

The wizard was casting Gilderoy Lockhart's most proficient Oblivion Spell.

“Here’s a map of your camp,” Mr. Roberts said calmly to Pisgood and Mr. Weasley, then turned to Mr. Weasley alone, “and here’s your change.”

"Thank you so much."

Mr. Weasley quickly took the change and said...

The wizard in lantern pants accompanied them as they walked toward the camp gate.

He looked extremely tired: his chin was unshaven and bluish-gray, and there were bluish-purple shadows under his eyes.

Only when Mr. Roberts could no longer hear them did the wizard whisper a complaint to Mr. Weasley and Pisgood:
“He caused me a lot of trouble—I had to recite the forgetfulness spell at least a dozen times a day to keep him in a good mood.”

That damn Ludo Bagman is just making things worse, walking around and yelling about Walkball and Quaffle.

He had absolutely no sense of security and completely disregarded the need to be wary of Muggles.

Damn it, I wish this all would end soon.

Okay, I'll stop here for now. See you later, Arthur, Arnold.

After saying that, he Apparated in front of everyone.

"Is Bagman the director of the Department of Magical Sports, Arthur?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "He should know very well that you can't talk about the Wandering Ball around Muggles."

"That's true, but..."

Pisgood shook his head. "Arthur, you should say it."

Mr. Weasley laughed:
"Well... how should I put it, Ludo has always been a bit careless about security issues."

But we can't find anyone more passionate than him to lead the Department of Sports and Recreation.

You should know that he used to play Quidditch for England and was the greatest hitter in Wimbledon history.

"The Ministry of Magic is truly full of talented people."

Sherlock said this, and Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, secretly amused.

(End of this chapter)