Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 512 A Warrior Emerges
When Sherlock and Harry entered the candlelit Great Hall, it was almost full.

Sherlock discovers that the Goblet of Fire has been moved.

It now stands on the faculty desk in front of Dumbledore's empty chair.

Sherlock glanced at it. "Did you just move in here?"

“Yes, Filch moved it here before I came up.”

Harry answered instinctively, then asked in surprise, "You could tell that?"

“My dear Harry, I was able to tell because Filch did it.”

Otherwise, I'll have to take out the magic magnifying glass you gave me to examine the magical traces left on it.

Sherlock waved his hand and said:

“Any object will leave a trace after it has been moved.”

As I once said, a person's height can be determined nine times out of ten by the length of their stride.

However, although the calculation method is simple, there's no point in teaching it to you step by step now.

"Wait, didn't you say that last time?"

“That’s right, so I’ll say it again,” Sherlock patted Harry on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Ron is already waving at us.”

"Sherlock, how did you rest?"

After the two were seated, Hermione spoke.

“It’s passable,” Sherlock smiled slightly, “but I can tell you must be starving.”

"Me too!"

Ron said with a displeased look, "I'm never eating at Hagrid's again."

Don't assume that just because I, Ron, eat a lot, I can do whatever I want.

Even Ron couldn't handle Hagrid's disastrous cooking skills; it's just a matter of whether Harry's cousin Dudley could manage.

The Halloween Eve dinner lasted much longer than usual—mainly because of the presence of students from two other schools.

Because there were banquets for two consecutive days, people didn't enjoy the elaborately prepared dishes as much as they usually do.

People in the auditorium craned their necks to look, and every face showed anxiety.

Everyone was restless, and they kept getting up to see if Dumbledore had finished eating.

Even Harry and Hermione, who didn't eat properly at noon, were like that.

Both of them were eager to finish what was on their plates so they could find out who had been chosen as the warrior.

Only Ron was focused on his dinner, as if he were trying to make up for the meal he missed at noon.

Hermione gently nudged Sherlock: "You don't seem nervous at all?"

Tell me a reason why you're nervous?

"Okay...you never seem to be nervous?"

"No, no, no, I get really nervous every time the mystery is about to be solved."

"Is this the kind of tension you're talking about..."

"if not?"

Strangely enough, Hermione, who was initially a little nervous, relaxed after chatting with Sherlock for a few minutes, and even her appetite improved.

Seeing this, Harry looked enlightened and then ate a few more bites.

Finally, the golden plate returned to its original spotless state.

At that moment, the noise in the auditorium suddenly rose considerably.

The next moment, Dumbledore stood up.

With this gesture, the auditorium fell silent once again.

Dumbledore was still able to maintain a calm expression.

However, Professor Karkaroff and Ms. Maxim on either side of him looked just as nervous as everyone else, their eyes filled with anticipation.

Ludo Bagman of the Ministry of Magic maintained his usual affable demeanor, smiling broadly and winking at the students from various schools.

As for Mad-Eye Moody...

Sorry, no one was looking at his expression. Anyone who met his demonic gaze for less than three seconds would definitely look away.

Only when Sherlock met his gaze did he not look away for a short time.

Sherlock could tell from the look in Moody's other real eye that he recognized him.

That's normal, since they had already met when they interrogated Peter Pettigrew.

However, Sherlock actually doesn't know much about this most famous Auror in history.

As for whether he became mentally unstable after retirement and mistook ordinary people for Death Eaters, Sherlock would not make a judgment without evidence.

"Alright, the wine glass is about to make a decision. I estimate it will take at most another minute."

Dumbledore looked around, and under the watchful eyes of the crowd, slowed his speech and said, word by word:

“Listen, after the warriors’ names are announced, I want them to walk to the top of the auditorium, then down the faculty desk, and into that room next door—”

He pointed to the door behind the faculty desk, "—they will receive their initial guidance there."

After saying that, he took out his wand and waved it dramatically.

In this way, all the candles except those inside the jack-o'-lantern went out.

The auditorium was suddenly plunged into a state of semi-darkness.

In this situation, the Goblet of Fire emitted a dazzling light brighter than anything else in the entire auditorium; the blue-white flames that sputtered sparks were almost blinding.

Everyone watched intently, waiting...

Some people kept checking their watches.

Hermione gripped Sherlock's hand tightly: "Almost there...almost there...we're almost there..."

Sherlock: "?"

Just then, the flame inside the goblet suddenly turned red, and sparks crackled and flew out.

In the blink of an eye, a tongue of fire shot into the air, from which flew a charred parchment.

Everyone who witnessed this scene held their breath.

Dumbledore calmly caught the parchment, then held it up to read the words by the light of the fire.

Once the parchment flew out, the flames returned to their blue-white color.

"Durmstrang's first warrior, and also the captain..."

Dumbledore said in a clear and forceful tone, "It is Viktor Krum."

"Not surprising at all!"

Ron shouted, and applause and cheers swept through the entire auditorium.

"That's fantastic, Viktor!"

Karkarov roared in a booming voice.

Despite the loud applause in the auditorium, everyone could hear his voice: "I knew you were destined to be a warrior!"

Viktor Krum stood up from Slytherin’s table and walked toward Dumbledore.

“He seems a little down,” Harry whispered to Sherlock. Sherlock smiled and nodded. “Just like you, the same old troubles of being a celebrity.”

Harry was taken aback by what he heard, but then he realized what was going on.

When I first entered Hogwarts, I also had to endure the intense scrutiny of onlookers every day.

Krum was treated even worse than him.

Besides Durmstrang's own students, many people from both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons went to him for autographs and even photos.

Such an experience naturally made Krum unable to cheer up.

Now that he's been selected as a warrior in the Triwizard Tournament, this situation will likely only worsen in the future.

He remained listless, turned right, walked along the faculty desk, and entered the next room through that door.

Just a few seconds later, the flame turned red again.

The second parchment, propelled by the flames, leaped out of the cup.

"Toby Torsen, Durmstrang's second warrior!"

As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, a boy who looked rather thin jumped up from the Slytherin table.

His face was filled with unbelievable joy and excitement, and he even stammered for a moment: "It's...it's me?! It really is me?"

His lack of confidence made everyone laugh.

Sherlock glanced over and found that the boy hadn't left any impression on him.

He did vaguely remember the boy standing next to him.

Last night, he asked Professor Karkarov if he could have some wine, but Professor Karkarov scolded him.

He also said that he had spilled food on the front of his robe again, calling him a "nasty boy".

The boy who had been scolded also stared in astonishment, his mouth agape, but then patted Toby Torsen hard on the back and shouted:

"Well done, Toby! You really didn't let us down!"

His loud voice attracted the attention of people nearby.

Karkarov's expression was priceless.

The way he looked at Toby was completely different from how he looked at Krum just now.

It wasn't the satisfaction of seeing outstanding students, but a complex emotion mixed with disbelief and a hint of disgust.

It is clear that they are unhappy about Toby Torsen being selected as a Warrior.

In the end, he just nodded stiffly, not even bothering to offer a word of congratulations.

Toby Torsen was so excited that he didn't notice his principal's attitude and practically skipped over.

Shortly after Toby entered the room, the blue flames turned red for the third time, and the charred parchment flew toward Dumbledore.

Dumbledore glanced at the names and announced without any expression:
"The last warrior of Durmstrang, Lucas Poliacco."

"Pfft-cough cough cough!"

Having just seen off Toby Torsen, Poliaco heard his own name called.

He pointed to his nose, his face a mixture of bewilderment and dizziness from overwhelming surprise:
"Me? Lucas Poliacco? It's me?"

He looked down at his shirt, which was stained with soup, and blinked hard, as if trying to confirm whether the oil stain had brought some kind of mysterious good luck.

Principal Karkarov's face turned completely black.

If seeing Toby only surprised and disgusted him, seeing Poliaco's name made his lips twitch uncontrollably, and his face darkened to the point of being almost dripping with water.

His fatherly expression was probably reserved only for Krum.

He didn't look at Poliaco, but instead cast a sinister gaze at the Goblet of Fire, as if questioning the impartiality of this ancient magical artifact.

Why would the Goblet of Fire choose wizards from two fallen families when it has brought so many outstanding students?

However, at this point, Poliaco no longer cared about the principal's attitude.

He let out a short cheer—which sounded more like a strange yell to others—and then hugged each of the people around him who were congratulating him.

As a result, I accidentally squeezed a quill pen out of the other person's pocket.

Then, he strode over to the faculty desk with an almost smug and carefree attitude.

Along the way, he accidentally knocked over a chair at the Hufflepuff table, which earned him a disgruntled glare from a badger nearby.

After Durmstrang's three warriors had all been announced, the applause and chatter gradually subsided.

The light of the Goblet of Fire stabilized, as if gathering power, before surging again.

Now everyone's attention is once again focused on the wine glass.

Everyone is speculating whether the champion chosen by the Goblet of Fire will come from Beauxbatons or Hogwarts.

The wait time this time was a little longer than last time.

When the Goblet of Fire handed the charred parchment to Dumbledore, he read it fluently and crisply:

"The warrior and captain of Beauxbatons—is Fleur Delacour!"

The girl who looked just like a Veela stood up gracefully, tossed her silver hair, and walked lightly between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

At that moment, almost all the boys in the auditorium were staring at her intently.

Some people acted even more aggressively than Ron did last night.

Veela bloodline, terrifying indeed!
"It's her, Sherlock!"

Harry exclaimed excitedly. Ever since he learned that the girl knew Sherlock, Harry had been wondering what kind of relationship existed between the two.

Upon seeing her chosen as a champion of Beauxbatons, he instinctively blurted out the name.

Hermione, who was holding Sherlock's hand, tightened her grip.

After Furong left, the flames softened a bit, but remained vibrant red, and soon sent off the next name.

"Beauxbatons' second warrior—Philee LaVine!"

A quiet, slightly slender girl stood up, looking bewildered and a little timid. She looked at Ms. Maxim with some helplessness.

Compared to Professor Karkaroff, Ms. Maxim was much kinder to the other students at Beauxbatons.

When she saw Felicity LaVine looking at her, she nodded firmly.

Felicity took a deep breath, straightened her back, and walked towards the door.

After her, the flames blazed for Beauxbatons one last time.

"The last warrior of Beauxbatons—Loy Lefan!"

This time, it was a rather composed-looking boy who stood up.

He was muscular, with neatly styled short brown hair, and his face showed a mixture of fortitude and obvious surprise.

He took a deep breath, nodded to Dumbledore, bowed to Madam Maxim, and then walked steadily toward the door without looking to the side.

All three warriors of Beauxbatons were chosen, and the two girls who were not chosen buried their heads in their arms and cried sadly.

As Loy Lefan passed by the two girls, he merely glanced at them expressionlessly before looking away.

After the three Beauxbatons warriors entered the next room, the auditorium fell silent again.

This silence was filled with an intense excitement that could almost be tasted.

Next up is the host of this Triwizard Tournament, the champions of Hogwarts.

(End of this chapter)