Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 533 Probability
With the first event of the Triwizard Tournament about to begin, Professor McGonagall, as Head of Gryffindor, led Sherlock and Harry away from the castle, around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and toward the dragon's lair.

Through Sherlock's observation of Professor McGonagall, he realized that Professor McGonagall already knew that the first project was a dragon.

But she didn't know that Sherlock and Harry already knew that the first project was a dragon.

When Professor McGonagall led Sherlock and Harry toward the thicket where they could have seen the grounds clearly, a large tent had already been erected there.

The tent conveniently blocked the fire dragons, preventing them from being seen by others.

The entrance to the tent faced them directly.

This behavior made Sherlock secretly shake his head.

What's the difference between this and a deaf person's ear?
But considering this was their usual practice, Sherlock didn't bother to say anything more.

Professor McGonagall stopped here.

She took a deep breath, seemingly trying to suppress her anxiety, but it had little effect.

She looked intently at the two students before her who were about to face a tremendous challenge, especially Harry, who was pale-faced.

"Okay, this is it."

Professor McGonagall's voice was deep and solemn, and even sounded slightly trembling:

"This is all I can do for you."

Warriors from all three schools are inside.

Mr. Bagman and Moody are both inside; they will show you the steps.

Remember what I told you, stay calm... believe in yourselves.

Good luck to you both... really good luck.

She gave their shoulders a final, firm squeeze, then abruptly turned and left.

It was as if staying even a second longer might cause her to lose control of her emotions.

Sherlock watched Professor McGonagall's slightly hurried departure, remaining as steady as a mountain.

Harry's was taut like a drawn bow—mainly because Professor McGonagall's behavior just now added an invisible pressure to the struggle he was about to begin.

He couldn't help but turn to the tent, feeling as if the entrance was a silent, gigantic maw that would devour him if he stepped inside.

At that moment, Harry felt as if the air itself had frozen, and even the cold winter wind couldn't dispel the suffocating tension.

"Brother, relax."

Just then, Sherlock's calm voice broke the silence, bringing Harry back to his senses.

He noticed that Sherlock's gaze was also focused on the tent entrance.

Sherlock withdrew his gaze, looked Harry up and down, and patted him on the shoulder:

"I can feel that you are nervous now."

Harry nodded; he was indeed very nervous.

"Take a deep breath, overcome this negative emotion, and come with me."

Harry nodded reluctantly.

He felt like a puppet, stiffly following Sherlock toward the tent entrance.

With each step he took closer, he could clearly hear his own heart pounding like a drum, thumping against his chest.

Fortunately, there's Sherlock.

This feeling couldn't help but arise in his heart again.

If he had to face all of this alone, he probably would be too weak to walk by now.
“No, it won’t,” Sherlock, who was walking in front, suddenly said.

"What did you say?" Harry looked at Big Brother in surprise.

“I mean, don’t underestimate yourself,” Sherlock smiled slightly. “My dear Harry, even if you face all of this on your own, you are perfectly capable of handling it.”

After saying this, Sherlock reached out and lifted the curtain, then went inside first.

Harry then realized that Sherlock must have seen through his thoughts again.

This is not surprising, though. Sherlock usually sees through his own thoughts, let alone when he is under such high tension.

Sherlock probably thought he had his thoughts written all over his face.

Sherlock entered the tent and immediately sensed a tense atmosphere, mixed with a faint smell of dust.

The light was dim at the time, but the people inside were still visible.

As Professor McGonagall said, Cedric is already inside.

He paced back and forth, his handsome face unusually serious and worried.

Seeing Harry and Sherlock enter, he stopped, forced a nervous smile, and nodded:
"Hey Sherlock, Harry...you're here?"

The greeting sounded slightly trembling.

It's obvious that he's very nervous right now.

Deep within a corner of the tent, Beauxbatons' three warriors gathered together.

Fleur Delacour leaned against a support pole, still trying to maintain her usual haughty posture.

However, Sherlock saw through her bottom line at a glance because her posture was somewhat stiff.

Her blue-gray eyes kept glancing toward the tent entrance before quickly looking away, as if she was trying her best to hide her inner unease.

As for the other two, they were not as calm and composed as usual; their faces were slightly pale, and they both looked sickly.

Compared to Beauxbatton, Durmstrang's three warriors performed better.

Toby Thorsen and Lucas Poliaco, who were not favored by Professor Karkaroff, were whispering to each other. When Sherlock and Harry entered, they both glanced at them quickly.

Viktor Krum was standing nearby.

His face was ashen, his brows furrowed, making him appear even more fierce and repressed than usual. Sherlock understood at a glance that he was just as nervous—he didn't need to hide it.

"Ah! Everyone's here! That's good!"

Just then, a vibrant yet overly deliberate voice rang out.

Ludo Bagman stood up from behind a small table in the front row.

He was still wearing his iconic old Hornets jersey, but the collar was sticking tightly to his neck from sweat.

Although his round face was flushed, Sherlock noticed a barely perceptible hint of anxiety and tension hidden deep in his eyes, contrasting with his radiant smile.

"Brave warriors! I think you feel the same way I do right now—what an exciting moment this is!"

Besides Bagman, the tent also contained Mad-Eye Moody, whom Professor McGonagall had just mentioned.

His magical prosthetic eye locked onto Harry the moment he walked in, then quickly scanned Sherlock and the others.

Unlike Bagman, he didn't stand up at this moment; he simply wrapped his strong arms around his body.

His wooden leg planted firmly on the ground, and his normal eye appeared incredibly sharp against his scarred face.

Bagman then looked at Moody and asked, "Alastor, shall you speak or I speak?"

Moody scoffed, seemingly quite disdainful of Bagman's exaggerated opening remarks. "You deal with it."

Bagman didn't mind and said with a smile, "Then leave it to me!"

He then clapped his hands vigorously, trying to get everyone's attention in this way.

The method worked; everyone, including Sherlock, looked at him.

"Alright, now that everyone's here, I have a few words to say!"

Can everyone please stand in the middle? Come closer!
It's time to explain the situation to you!

The warriors silently approached him.

Cedric quickly went to Sherlock and Harry's side.

The nine warriors from the three schools, as before, formed three distinct waves.

The difference is that the champions of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons are all gathered together, while Durmstrang's captain, Krum, is kept further away from the other two.

Seeing this, Sherlock couldn't help but shake his head secretly.

It's unclear whether it was Karkaroff's influence, Krum's inherent personality, or a combination of both.

In short, despite being a team of three, they were unable to cooperate closely.

Durmstrang is likely to suffer a loss in this first hurdle.

At this moment, Bagman cleared his throat and said excitedly:

"Once the audience has gathered, I will hand this bag to each of you in turn."

As he spoke, he held up a purple silk bag and shook it at them.

Noticing that everyone's attention was drawn to the silk bag, Bagman was even happier.

He continued:
“You each pick out a small model of the thing you will be facing!”
They have different—well— kinds.

There's one more thing I need to tell you...

Oh, right... your task is to collect the golden eggs!

Finally, we've seen the main storyline of this mission!
Hearing Mr. Bagman's words, Sherlock felt a slight chill.

In fact, Sherlock had already deduced this from Charlie's earlier mention of the female fire dragon that the organizers insisted on incubating its eggs.

Now it seems that the situation is very clear.

Choose one of the three dragons by drawing lots, and then take the golden egg from its guardian.

how to say?

I really hate it!

Since the warriors already knew beforehand that their mission was to pass by the fire dragon, even those who were a little slow to react understood what Mr. Bagman meant when they heard him speak.

The three captains, Cedric, Fleur, and Drum, also nodded.

Just as they were talking, the sound of hurried footsteps rang out.

Clearly, once the Warriors were in position, the audience began to take their seats.

Just from the density of the footsteps, you could tell that all the teachers and students in the school had come over.

This is normal, since there are always this many people playing Quidditch.

Sherlock could hear their conversations and laughter even from inside the tent.

Clearly, the audience members were different from the contestants; they were excited.

After a while, Mr. Bagman began to untie the purple silk bag.

"Lady first."

He handed the bag to Fleur Delacour, then looked at the other two captains, "I don't think you guys are interested, are you?"

Cedric nodded, while Krum remained silent with a gloomy expression—Bagman took this as agreement.

At this moment, Furong also reached her trembling hand into the cloth bag and took out a small, lifelike dragon model.

It has to be said that she was quite lucky.

It was a silver-blue Swedish short-nosed dragon, with a number tied around its neck: number three.

Harry's heart skipped a beat—oh no, now their chances of drawing the Hungarian Hornet were fifty percent.

(End of this chapter)