Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 513 This young lady seems to be thinking about something impolite.
With all the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons chosen, only three Hogwarts champions remained.

As the host of this Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts undoubtedly receives the most attention.

Ron suddenly leaned over and said, "I really wish Angelina was one of the contestants over seventeen."

“Me too!” Hermione said, still holding Sherlock’s hand tightly, while holding her breath.

"No need to worry, we'll find out soon."

Harry stared intently at the Goblet of Fire.

At this moment, the blue and white flames of the Goblet of Fire leaped, as if foreseeing the final climax.

Just then, the Goblet of Fire turned red again, sparks flew, and flames shot high into the air. Dumbledore pulled the seventh parchment from the tip of the flames.

"Cedric Diggory, the champion and captain of Hogwarts!"

"Oops!"

Ron and Seamus shouted together.

But apart from Sherlock, Harry, and Dean who were nearby, no one heard it.

Because the long table of Hufflepuff next to them suddenly erupted in thunderous cheers, stomping, and screams.

The shouts reached the dome, and some Hufflepuff students even stood on benches.

Cedric slowly stood up.

His face beamed with surprise, pride, and a warm smile. Amidst applause that nearly lifted the roof off, he calmly waved to the Hogwarts students and walked steadily toward the room behind the faculty desk.

In terms of appearance alone, he is in no way inferior to Krum and Fleur, and may even be better.

The home advantage of the host country was fully demonstrated at this moment, and the cheers for Cedric lasted for a long time.

This made Professor Karkaroff and Mrs. Maxim look rather displeased.

However, not everyone was supporting Cedric, and Ron sneered:
"Very good, we now have warriors over seventeen years old. The rest is up to you!"

Harry suddenly felt a tightness in his left hand, and when he turned around, he couldn't help but laugh and cry.

For some reason, Ron grabbed Harry's hand tightly, just like Hermione had grabbed Sherlock.

Clearly, although Ron had put his name in the Goblet of Fire, he knew in his heart that he wasn't cut out for it.

"Listen, that guy has already taken the captain's position. If neither Sherlock nor you are selected, that would be really bad."

"Ron, what are you saying!"

Hermione said with some dissatisfaction, "Although we all hope that Angelina can be selected, once Cedric is selected as a warrior, he will be our ally."

"Hmph, if he becomes the captain, doesn't that mean Sherlock and Harry will have to listen to him?"

“Exactly, I don’t think he’s any smarter than Sherlock,” Fred chimed in.

Although they had joked with Sherlock and Harry before, when the moment actually came, the Weasley twins knew very well that they were inferior to the Lion King and the Savior in every way.

George laughed, "It's alright. If Cedric refuses to listen to Sherlock, Sherlock can just take Harry and let him play by himself!"

“Oh, don’t say that, Cedric isn’t that kind of person.”

Harry couldn't help but say something for him, then his voice trailed off, "And we might not even get chosen."

However, no sooner had he finished speaking than Dumbledore's voice rang out:

"Hogwarts' second hero—Harry Potter!"

boom!
This time, the cheers came from the boiling Gryffindor table!
"Potter!"

The King of Fighters

"Savior!"

Shouts came one after another.

Ron clapped until his hands were red, and Hermione's eyes sparkled brightly.

Harry had imagined countless times what it would be like to be chosen by the flames, but when the moment actually arrived, his mind still went completely blank.

At the head table, Professor Dumbledore straightened up and shouted once again:
"Harry Potter—Harry! Please come here!"

"Go on, what are you waiting for!" Ron urged loudly, giving Harry a shove of his elbow.

Harry: (*￣︿￣)
That Ron guy!
He glared at Ron in annoyance, only to see the guy turn his head away, pretending to look around at the scenery.

“Go ahead, Harry,” Hermione urged in a low voice.

Harry looked at Sherlock again, and the moment his eyes met those grey eyes, he felt a sense of relief.

Harry stood up and walked along the passage between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, then, like the previous six champions, went through the door via the faculty table and out of the Great Hall.

"Harry Potter."

Karkaroff murmured the name, then remarked with a touch of emotion, "It really wasn't unexpected at all!"

At this point, he couldn't help but glance in Moody's direction again, but quickly looked away after seeing his demonic eye.

Ms. Maxim said with a smile, "I even suspect that this change in the competition format was made specifically for this little boy."

“Don’t say that, Ms. Maxim.”

Mr. Bagman interjected, “The change in the competition format was not decided by the British Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts; it was agreed upon by the Ministry of Magic of your country and by both of your schools.”

“That’s true, but the problem is that the warriors of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are all sixth or seventh graders, am I right, Mrs. Maxim?”

“That’s right, all three of them are already seventeen years old.”

"In other words, the Goblet of Fire believes that Potter is more qualified than the other contestants who are older than him," Bagman said somewhat impatiently. "Alright, don't bother Dumbledore, the last contestant's name has been announced."

Just as they were talking, the flame in the wine glass turned red again.

Sparks crackled and popped as they flew out.

A long tongue of fire suddenly shot into the air, carrying out a piece of parchment.

Dumbledore immediately stretched out a long, slender hand and grasped the parchment.

He held it far away and stared at the name written on it.

A long silence.

Dumbledore stared at the note in his hand, and everyone in the Great Hall stared at him.

Then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read aloud—

"Sherlock Holmes."

A second deafening roar erupted from Gryffindor House.

Ron shouted the same thing for the second time: "Not surprising at all!"

"The Lion King has arrived!"

"Sherlock Holmes, the great detective!"

Tremble, for our king has arrived!

Hermione squeezed Sherlock's hand tightly one last time, then let go.

Sherlock calmly stood up amidst the cheers, a faint smile on his lips, and nodded slightly to the crowd that was cheering for him.

"Lion King? What's that?" Bagman asked curiously.

Karkaroff looked at Sherlock with curiosity: "Judging by his age, he can't be seventeen, can he?"

"Dumbledore, your school truly produces many talented individuals. The Goblet of Fire has indeed only selected a seventeen-year-old wizard."

Mrs. Maxim straightened her large, imposing figure, her enormous breasts, clad in a black satin dress, heaving violently.

She recognized Sherlock as the one who had spoken to Fleur earlier that day and said with considerable displeasure.

"It was all a choice made by the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore replied calmly, his gaze sweeping over Sherlock, who, with steady steps and the hem of his black robes fluttering, calmly disappeared behind the door. Sherlock naturally noticed Dumbledore's gaze, but he did not respond.

He walked briskly through the door, out of the auditorium, and into a small room.

"Alright, now all our warriors have been selected."

I know I can completely trust all of you, including Beauxbatons and the other students at Durmstrang, and I know you will all give your all to support your warriors.

By cheering on the warriors, you will also make a great contribution to this event.

Dumbledore's voice came from behind him, but Sherlock paid no attention to it. He noticed the portraits of wizards hanging on the walls on both sides.

In the fireplace opposite him, the fire was burning brightly.

As he walked in, all the faces in the portraits turned to look at him.

A wrinkled witch darted out of her own picture frame and into the one next to it.
There was a male wizard with a walrus beard on it.

The wrinkled witch began to whisper in his ear.

Sherlock was very familiar with this scene.

Since discovering the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement, Hogwarts has held almost no secrets for him.

He had been to this house countless times.

At this moment, the eight warriors who had been before him were gathered around the fire, forming three distinct groups.

Durmstrang's Viktor Krum, Toby Tossen, and Lucas Poliacco.

Fleur Delacour, Felicity Lavin, and Loy Lefan of Beauxbatons.

Hogwarts was relatively weak, with only Cedric and Harry.

Sherlock's gaze swept over them, and he immediately grasped the situation of these people with a high degree of accuracy.

Aside from Harry, whom they knew intimately, the three captains left the deepest impression.

Krum leaned against the fireplace mantle, hunched over, deep in thought, keeping a slight distance from the other two men in Durmstrang.

Cedric was speaking quietly to Harry.

Furong was also talking to a man and a woman.

When Sherlock walked in, all eight people turned around at once, their eyes landing on him.

"Sherlock!"

Harry, the most excited one, immediately rushed forward and grabbed Sherlock's arm:

"I knew you would come!"

Sherlock smiled slightly. "Thank you for your kind words, Harry."

As he spoke, he glanced at Cedric again, who immediately smiled and nodded at him.
“I was just telling Harry that it would be great if you could come, we…”

At this point, he suddenly realized that people from the other two schools were here, and there were some things he couldn't say.

"Anyway, it's great that you could come."

Cedric's attitude did not surprise Harry. Sherlock nodded slightly to him, then turned to Fleur Delacour:
“We meet again, Miss Delacour.”

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Felicity Raven and Loy Levan, two students from Beauxbatons, shifted their surprised gazes back and forth between Fleur and Sherlock.

Finally, the slightly slender girl, Felicity, couldn't help but ask:
"Furong, did you two know each other before?"

“You met her at noon today, Philie,” Fleur turned her head and tossed her cascading silver hair. “Later, Mrs. Maxim took us away.”

"Ah, it's him!"

Reminded by Furong, Felicity also realized what was going on.

She looked at Sherlock with curiosity in her eyes.

In Beauxbatons, the number of boys pursuing Fleur was countless.

Fleur Delacour, however, was like a rose with thorns, having one boyfriend after another in public.

However, only those who know Fleur like Felicity Lavin know that these boys are all just a shield.

Neither side made any substantial progress.

These boys knew that Furong was using them, but even so, they were happy to do it.

With the start of the three-way competition, it was no surprise that Furong would be sought after by boys from other schools.

But the Sherlock Holmes before me.

Isn't there a bit too much of an age difference between them?

You, a fourth-grade boy, want to pluck the flower of Beauxbatons?

Or are the British more mature than the French?
As she was thinking this, Sherlock suddenly turned his head to face her:

“Miss, you seem to be thinking about something very rude.”

"what?"

Felicity Lavin, already slender, blushed instantly as Sherlock exposed her intentions. The frail girl, like a startled rabbit, twisted her delicate fingers together in a flustered manner.
"I do not have……"

Her reaction further confirmed Sherlock's deduction.

Sherlock's lips curled into a playful smile, but it wasn't mockery; rather, it was a calm acceptance of everything.

"I think you may have misunderstood me."

"I...I didn't..."

Phyllis was about to explain when Sherlock interrupted her, "Of course, I don't mind."

"..."

Felicity Raven looked at Sherlock in surprise, momentarily confused.

Fleur Delacour, standing to the side, frowned and looked Sherlock up and down as if she were meeting him for the first time.

Seeing his fellow student's embarrassed state, Loy Lefan immediately stepped forward and stood in front of the two girls.

He was a burly man of average build, much taller and larger than Sherlock and Harry were now.

“Sir, please forgive my bluntness.”

He glanced outside, then looked away, then looked at Harry again before slowly saying:

"But you and your friends are too young and not suitable to participate in the competition. I think Flame must have made a mistake."

Harry almost immediately wanted to retort, but after glancing at Sherlock, he held back.

Cedric, however, immediately spoke up in support:
"You're the one who got it wrong, aren't you?"
Professor Dumbledore said yesterday that each school must have at least one student over the age of seventeen to participate.

Do I need to explain what 'at least' means?

"Of course I understand. Now that the Goblet of Fire has chosen them, does that mean that your school has no other wizards over the age of seventeen who are worthy of recognition?"

"you--!"

Just as Cedric was getting angry, Sherlock spoke up: "Thank you, Cedric."

After saying that, he turned to Loy Lefan and said, "You're right."

"what?"

Loy Levan originally intended to use their age to attack Sherlock and Harry, and then expand on the topic of Hogwarts having no one left to use.

To everyone's surprise, Sherlock simply admitted it.

However, Sherlock's next words made him break down:

"So if you have any opinions, go tell the Goblet of Fire!"

(End of this chapter)