Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 504 Foreign Beauty
"You don't mind, do you, Dumbledore?"

Professor Karkaroff patted a student on the shoulder happily and said to Sherlock:
"I'm so sorry, Viktor has caught a bit of a cold..."

At this moment, most of the students at Hogwarts began to whisper among themselves.

Because the boy had a striking hooked nose and thick, dark eyebrows, he was none other than Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker who had recently shone in the Quidditch World Cup.

Ron was stunned.

Just as Sherlock said, he never expected to run into Krum in such a place.

"Harry—it's Krum, it really is Krum!"

“I saw it, Ron, stop kicking me with your elbow.”

Harry was somewhat exasperated because Ron was poking his arm hard.

Now that Durmstrang's men had arrived, there was no need for the Hogwarts teachers and students to remain outdoors. They were now following behind Durmstrang's group, queuing to climb the stone steps.

Hearing Harry say that, Ron finally stopped giving Harry the elbow, but still spoke in a tone of great shock:

"I can't believe it!"

It's Krum, Harry!
Viktor Krum!

Seeing Ron's appearance, Harry couldn't help but feel helpless and looked at Sherlock and Hermione.

Sherlock remained silent, while Hermione frowned.

"For God's sake, Ronald, he's just a Quidditch player."

"'Just a Quidditch player'?"

Ron stared intently at Hermione, seemingly unable to believe his ears:

"Hermione—she's one of the best Seekers in the world!"
I never imagined he was still a student!

"He does look rather mature."

Sherlock said so.

However, compared to the others, Ron was already considered quite reserved.

As they walked through the foyer toward the auditorium again, Lee Jordan was tiptoeing and jumping around, trying to get a better look at Krum's back.

Several sixth-grade girls were walking along, frantically rummaging through their pockets for something.

"Oh, I can't believe it, I didn't bring a single quill pen with me."

Do you think he'll sign my hat with his lipstick?

"What? You brought lipstick? Give it to me right now!"

"Wait, that's mine!"

As Hermione walked past the group of girls arguing over a lipstick, she frowned and couldn't help but comment:

"That's ridiculous!"

Sherlock smiled. "I understand."

"What did you say?" Hermione looked at Sherlock in surprise, as if she couldn't believe what she had heard.

“It’s normal for the wizarding world to have fans,” Sherlock said, his gaze sweeping over the girls. “In essence, their adoration for Viktor Krum and their adoration for Gilderoy Lockhart are the same thing.”

Hermione blushed slightly when Sherlock mentioned Lockhart.

Without a doubt, this incident can be considered a dark chapter in her history.

She looked past Sherlock toward Harry and Ron, and saw Ron asking Harry for a pen:

"If possible, I'd like to get his autographed photo. Didn't you bring a quill pen?"

"No, they're all upstairs in my backpack."

Although Harry also thought Krum was an excellent player, even one of the best Seekers in the world, his demeanor was noticeably calmer than Ron's.

The four of them had already sat down at the Gryffindor table.

Ron deliberately sat on the side facing the door, because Durmstrang students were still gathered at the door, seemingly unsure where they should sit.

In contrast, the students who entered Beauxbatons earlier had already chosen to sit at the Ravenclaw table.

Perhaps because Ravenclaw is the house with the most female students, there are also more male than female students among the Beauxbatons students who come here.

However, after they sat down, they looked around the auditorium, their faces showing sullen expressions.

Three of them had their heads tightly wrapped in scarves and headscarves.

“It’s not that cold,” Hermione said, disapprovingly. “So why aren’t they wearing cloaks?”

I can't stand it.

I just can't stand it.

For some reason, Hermione, a native Englishwoman, just couldn't stand these students from France.

"Here! Come and sit here!"

Just then, Ron said in a hoarse voice:
"Here! Harry, move over a bit, make some room—"

"What?" Harry looked at Ron in confusion, completely baffled as to what his good friend was doing.

Ron said with a regretful expression, "Alas, it's too late!"

It turned out that Viktor Krum and his Durmstrang alumni were already seated at the Slytherin table.

All the Slytherin students were very proud of this.

Draco Malfoy was leaning over to talk to Krum.

"Ha, that's right, Malfoy is trying to curry favor with him."

Ron said sarcastically, "I bet Krum saw right through him!"

Sherlock shook his head. "Malfoy was just saying he saw Krum play at the Quidditch World Cup."

Furthermore, Krum wouldn't be able to tell what kind of person he was at first glance.

Sherlock couldn't help but feel a little emotional.

With Gemma Farley graduating, Slytherin truly has few students left who are worthy of recognition.

If Gemma were still alive, Slytherin wouldn't be as excited as they are now, simply because students from other schools—mainly Krum—are sitting next to their own house.

Then Ron gave it a good show:
“I dare say that wherever Krum goes, people fawn over him and flatter him…”

Where do you think they'll sleep?
We can offer him a bed in our dorm, Harry...

I'm willing to give him my bed; I'll sleep on my cot.

Harry: "..."

Ron has gone mad!

Hermione scoffed dismissively.

However, the behavior of his two friends did not change Ron's mind. He still looked at Durmstrang's students with great interest, mainly Krum.

Harry shook his head somewhat helplessly, trying to divert Ron's attention from Krum:

“They look much happier than Beauxbatons’ gang.”

"Ok?"

Ron gave a vague answer, still staring longingly at Krum.

Harry shrugged at Sherlock and Hermione with a hint of exasperation.

Sherlock smiled, not minding his friend's lapse in composure.

He had made a conclusion long ago that both Harry and Hermione were much more mature than Ron.

In fact, Ron's current behavior is more like that of a chuunibyou (a person with delusions of grandeur).

As for Sherlock himself, sorry.

He's not even a normal person.

As Harry said, Durmstrang students were much happier than the sullen Beauxbatons students.

They removed their heavy fur cloaks and gazed up at the starlit ceiling with great interest. Several students even picked up golden plates and goblets, examining them closely, clearly intrigued.

Over there at the faculty desk, the administrator, Filch, was adding a few chairs.

For this grand occasion, he wore his old, moldy tailcoat.

Harry was surprised to see that he had added four chairs, two on each side of Dumbledore.

“But there are only two more people,” Harry said, looking at Sherlock. “Why did Filch bring out four chairs? Who else is coming?”

“If it were before, the people from the Ministry of Magic would definitely have been Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman.”

Sherlock gave a direct answer: "But now, Barty Crouch can't come; it might be Cornelius Fudge."

It turns out to be like the north!

Harry suddenly realized.

The faculty members entered the auditorium only after all the students had entered and taken their seats at their respective college tables.

They took their seats one after another at the head table.

Bringing up the rear were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Ms. Maxim.

Durmstrang's students didn't react in any particular way.

But the students of Beauxbatons stood up as soon as they saw their principal appear.

Several Hogwarts students couldn't help but laugh when they saw this.

But the students at Beauxbatons didn't seem embarrassed at all.

They did not sit down again until Ms. Maxim sat down to Dumbledore's left.

Dumbledore remained standing until the Great Hall gradually quieted down.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts, and—especially—distinguished guests."

Dumbledore said, smiling as he looked at the foreign students:

"I welcome you to Hogwarts with great joy."

I hope and believe that you will feel comfortable and happy here.

No sooner had he finished speaking than a Beauxbatons girl, whose head was still tightly wrapped in a scarf, let out a cold laugh that was undoubtedly sarcastic.

Hermione, who already disliked French people, was now even more annoyed by the girl and immediately whispered:

"No one forced you to stay!"

"The competition will officially begin at the end of the banquet. I now invite everyone to eat and drink to your heart's content, as if you were at home!"

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone's plates were immediately piled high with food.

Today's dishes are exceptionally plentiful, and some even have foreign flavors.

Harry couldn't help but steal a glance at Hermione, thinking to himself that this time the house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops.

"what is that?"

Ron pointed to a large plate next to the steak, kidney pudding, and other dishes; it looked like a seafood medley.

“French fish soup,” Sherlock said calmly, “and these other dishes are all French.”

Hermione nodded. "I ate it during the summer before last, and it tasted delicious."

"The best food in Britain has always been French—but from now on it will be Chinese."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Harry couldn't help but look in Ravenclaw's direction, where he saw Cho Chang whispering to a girl from Beauxbatons.

As Sherlock and Hermione said, French food is indeed more delicious than British food.

After trying it, Ron immediately began to devour it without hesitation.

"He finally couldn't care less about Krum anymore."

Harry whispered to Sherlock and Hermione.

Sure enough, only delicious food could distract him.

Twenty minutes after the banquet began, Hagrid slipped into the auditorium through a door behind the faculty desk.

He sat down at the end of the table, raised a hand wrapped in many bandages, and waved it in Sherlock's direction.

"How's the Blasttail, Hagrid?" Harry asked loudly.

"They're growing well," Hagrid replied happily to Harry's teasing.

"Yes, I guess that's it."

Ron overheard Harry and Hagrid's conversation and whispered to his three friends:
"Looks like they've finally found something they like to eat, haven't they—that's Hagrid's fingers."

Just as Ron was complaining, a voice suddenly said, "Excuse me, are you still going to eat this fish soup?"

It was the same girl from Beauxbatons who laughed when Dumbledore was speaking.

She finally took off the scarf.

Her long, shimmering light golden hair cascaded down to her waist with curled ends.

She has a pair of large, bright blue eyes and a set of clean, white teeth.

Upon seeing her appearance, Ron, who had been complaining, suddenly turned bright red, just like his hair.

He stared at her blankly, opening his mouth as if to answer.

But for some reason, it only made some strange little sounds, as if its throat was stuck.

Compared to Ron, Harry behaved much better; he pushed the plate towards the girl.
"Okay, you can take it."

Have you finished eating?

The girl asked somewhat uncertainly.

"I'm done eating," Ron said, almost out of breath, but he managed to say, "It was delicious."

The girl nodded, her gaze sweeping over Hermione and Sherlock as if it were a routine matter.

After a brief moment of eye contact with Sherlock, she calmly looked away and carefully carried the plate to Ravenclaw's table.

Throughout this process, Ron continued to stare at the girl with wide eyes, as if he had never seen a girl before.

Harry couldn't hold back any longer and finally burst out laughing.

His laughter also brought Ron to his senses.

“She’s a Veela!” Ron said to Sherlock and Harry in a hoarse voice, “She must be a Veela!”

"Certainly not!"

Hermione retorted without mincing words, "I didn't see anyone staring at her like an idiot!"

This is just lying with open eyes.

When the girl who took off her scarf and revealed her true face walked through the auditorium, many boys turned their heads to look at her.

Several of them seemed to suddenly become speechless, just like Ron had been doing earlier.

"I have to say, that girl is really something else!"

Ron said, turning to the side so he could still see her clearly, "There's no one like that at Hogwarts!"

"The girls at Hogwarts are nice too."

Harry said without hesitation.

He admitted the girl was pretty, but Qiu Zhang was sitting a few seats away from the silver-haired girl.

Sherlock watched the silver-haired girl's departing figure thoughtfully.
"It's not a Veela, it should only have Veela blood, otherwise the effect wouldn't be just like this, there would also be..."

He paused for a moment, his tone carrying a hint of certainty:
"She knows me."

"what?!"

Harry, who was staring at Cho Chang, Ron, who was staring at Fleur, and Hermione, who looked annoyed, all turned around at the same time and looked at Sherlock in surprise.

(End of this chapter)