Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 536 He is not fighting alone

When Sherlock risked everything to create an opportunity.

Harry didn't hesitate for a second and immediately grabbed it.

The tail of the fire bolt whistled sharply through the air, and the powerful thrust forced the wind against Harry's face.

In just a few seconds, the nest of fire dragon eggs, enveloped in dark red scales and scorching heat, was right in front of them.

At this moment, the Hungarian wood bee was maintaining a stiff and strange posture.

It stood upright, and its huge, dark, rough wings were fully spread out, as wide as a small airplane.

This is because Sherlock's interference with him is still having an effect.

As a result, its forelegs, which were covered with hooked claws and had been firmly protecting the egg, could no longer form any barrier.

At that moment, Harry's mind suddenly became incredibly clear.

He banished all the fear churning in his chest, the worry about his own safety, and the distracting thoughts about whether he could succeed.

His green eyes reflected the glittering golden target in the center of the nest of eggs.

His heart beat with a firm rhythm as the fire bolt struck.

Only one thought remained in his mind:
Sorry, I have to win this game!
When he was less than ten feet off the ground, Harry suddenly exerted force on his wrist, manipulating the Firebolt to make half of a standard Lansky feint.

It's only half because, at the moment he was about to touch the ground during his dive, he didn't suddenly leap into the air as usual.

On the contrary, with his amazing control, he managed to keep the fire bolt hovering steadily three feet off the ground, stopping precisely in front of the fire dragon egg.

In the blink of an eye, Harry quickly released the broom handle, and with his free hands, he swiftly reached out and scooped up the golden egg.

A cool touch came from my hands, and the golden egg glittered in the sunlight.

"I did it!"

Harry couldn't contain his excitement and shouted, and the fire bolt shot into the air like an arrow.

Meanwhile, the Hungarian wood bee finally returned to normal and angrily pounced on Harry's original spot.

Unfortunately, they came up empty-handed.

Even a fire dragon could only helplessly watch the tail of the fire bolt under such circumstances.

He suddenly opened his mouth and spewed out flames once more, but it was nothing more than impotent rage.

Because Harry had already flown out of its range.

He tucked the heavy golden egg under his arm, soared back into the sky, and successfully reunited with Sherlock and Cedric.

The silence in the stands lasted only a fraction of a second before erupting into a deafening roar of cheers.

Mr. Bagman's passionate voice, amplified by a magical amplification spell, echoed in every corner of the arena:
"Look! How wonderful!"

It’s so exciting!
It's like one thing leading to another!
A flawless transformation spell!
A simple and effective summoning spell!
A speedster who's reached the pinnacle of speed!
Bagman shouted loudly; he was now so excited he couldn't contain himself, and his commentary even showed clear personal bias.

"The Hogwarts team, which has two underage warriors, has thus obtained the golden egg in a legendary way!"
Our youngest warrior showed the flair of a Quidditch player at this moment!
That's fantastic! It took so much less time than I expected!

I seem to see a new star rising!
A great Seeker from Hogwarts!
He inherited England's glorious tradition!

Rodney, Plenton, and Bajiworthy were possessed by my spirit at this moment!
Harry Potter, he alone represents the long history and tradition of English Quidditch. At this moment, he is not fighting alone; he is not alone!

In a different context, Bagman would definitely be criticized harshly for making such a commentary.

However, this is England, this is Hogwarts.

Sherlock, Harry, and Cedric are playing on their home turf, with over 99% of the audience being Hogwarts students.

In this situation, no matter how much Bagman praises his own people, it won't matter—people will instead think he's a genuine and righteous man.

Of course, if he were to use such an exaggerated tone to praise Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, he would most likely face the risk of being fired.

High in the air, Cedric's shoulder began to bleed again.

But at this moment, he didn't care at all, and grinned happily:

"Well done, Sherlock, our Plan A was a success!"
Harry, well done! Did you hear what Mr. Bagman said?

As expected of someone from Hogwarts, they really didn't let us down!

Harry, who was being praised by everyone, was now a little embarrassed:
"I'm not... I'm not as amazing as he says..."

Sherlock replied seriously, "No, you are even more powerful than he said."

"Huh?" Harry was stunned and looked up at Sherlock.

"I don't know who those people he mentioned are, but I'd bet you half a Galleon, Harry..."

Sherlock's lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes filled with undisguised approval:
"None of them were able to snatch the golden egg from under the noses of the Hungarian wood bee."

Harry's cheeks flushed from the praise, and he smiled shyly, tightening his grip on the golden egg.

At that moment, the dragon trainers on the field rushed towards the Hungarian wood bee, trying to quell its rage.

It looks like a miserable situation.

But there's nothing they can do; that's what they do.

Amidst the hurried hands of the dragon tamers, the beautiful figure of a witch stood out.

Gemma Farley.

She paused slightly and raised her head before charging towards the dragon.

The gaze from those azure eyes pierced through the swirling dust and noise, looking towards the sky.

At the same time, Sherlock lowered his head as if he had noticed something.

Although the two were dozens of feet apart, their eyes met at that moment.

it is more than words.

However, Sherlock didn't have time to catch up with Gemma at that moment.

At the entrance to the venue, Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin, Professor Sprout, and Hagrid hurried over to greet them.

Several people were frantically waving at the three of them, begging them to come over.

Even from this distance, the smiles on their faces were clearly visible.

Harry and Cedric couldn't resist flying up to the top of the stands again, the clamor of the crowd assaulting their eardrums.

The two exchanged a glance, feeling incredibly proud and confident, as if they had the world at their fingertips with a flying broom in hand!

Sherlock landed smoothly on the ground.

As expected, everything is under control.

"That was brilliant, Holmes!"

As soon as Sherlock stepped off his flying broomstick, Professor McGonagall strode forward.

Her usually serious face showed a rare expression of excitement, and her voice was several decibels higher than usual.

Given her typically meticulous nature, for her to say something like that is already a great compliment.

At this point, Harry and Cedric also returned to the ground.

Professor Sprout pointed at the three of them, his fingers trembling slightly:
“Before the judges score, Diggory, Holmes, you need to go see Ms. Pomfrey…”

“It’s good that Cedric’s over, I’m fine,” Sherlock said casually. His protective measures were thorough; he was completely unharmed. “Who said that?”

Professor Lupin's gentle voice broke in, his gaze falling on Sherlock's robe, which was scorched and blackened.

"You may think you've only burned your robes, but in reality, your skin may have been burned as well."

"Go, Sherlock, listen to Professor Sprout!"

Professor McGonagall's tone softened for once, and she said gently, "Potter can stay here and wait for the judges to score him."

Seeing that the three professors were so insistent, Sherlock shrugged helplessly and had no choice but to turn around and walk out of the arena with Cedric.

Just then, Hagrid's rough, millstone-like voice came from behind, excitedly shouting at Harry:

"You did it, Harry!"

You're dealing with wood bees, you know Charlie said wood bees are the fiercest—”

"Thank you, Hagrid."

Harry immediately interrupted him loudly.

Upon hearing this, Sherlock couldn't help but smile knowingly.

Harry is quite experienced.

If Hagrid is allowed to continue, he will most likely inadvertently reveal that he took Harry to secretly see the dragon before the game.

That's Hagrid for you; never expect him to keep any secrets.

"Sherlock, that move of yours was both beautiful and decisive."

Cedric saw Sherlock smile and, unaware that he was talking about Hagrid, assumed he was also happy that the three of them had passed the first test.

"You know what? This is the first time in months that I've felt so relaxed!"

Perhaps relieved of the burden, Cedric opened up, his tone still carrying a hint of relief at surviving a disaster:

"I can't believe we made it through the first project, we survived..."

"It was indeed somewhat surprising that our first project involved a fire dragon, but to say that we wouldn't survive would be a bit of an exaggeration."

“I don’t think it’s an exaggeration, Sherlock. Now I understand why the Triwizard Tournament was discontinued due to the high death toll.”

"If the three of us hadn't been careful just now, we might have died on the field like those predecessors," Cedric said with lingering fear.

"If that happens, the Triwizard Tournament will probably be suspended for another few hundred years—and then we will become people who go down in history."

Sherlock chuckled, his tone carrying a hint of dry humor:
"Putting everything else aside, in that book Hermione often mentions, 'Hogwarts: A History of the School,' the three of our names will definitely be added."

Cedric was clearly uncomfortable with the joke, so he coughed awkwardly a few times and chose to remain silent.

Fortunately, the two left the arena quickly.

Ms. Pomfrey was standing at the entrance to the second tent.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her brows furrowed, and she looked extremely anxious.

"Fire Dragon!"

As soon as she saw the two of them, she muttered a complaint in a disgusted tone.

Without further ado, they grabbed Sherlock and Cedric and carried them into the tent, one in each hand.

The tent was filled with the strong smell of herbs. Ms. Pomfrey first examined Cedric's shoulder carefully, grumbling incessantly as she spoke:
"The year before last it was a giant monster, the year before that it was a basilisk, last year it was a dementor, and this year it's a fire dragon!"

What else will they bring to Hogwarts next?
This is a school, not a museum of fantastic beasts!

"Uh... Ms. Pomfrey, this is a three-way battle, it's normal for fire dragons to appear..."

"I don't care about any of that! All I want is for my students to be safe and sound!"

At this moment, Ms. Pomfrey unleashed her full power, glaring fiercely at Cedric, who dared to talk back.

That sharp gaze silenced the latter.

"You're lucky...the wound is shallow...but I need to clean it first before I treat you..."

She talked incessantly, but her hands moved with surprising speed, cleaning Cedric's wounds with a smoking, foul-smelling purple liquid as she spoke.

Sherlock watched the scene with curiosity.

After cleaning the wound with liquid, Ms. Pomfrey gently touched the wound with the tip of her wand.

As she chanted the incantation, the bleeding wound began to heal at a visible speed, and soon only a faint red mark remained.

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.

It seems the key to why my spell hadn't worked was that I hadn't used this liquid to clean the wound.

That's normal; everyone has their own area of ​​expertise.

After treating Cedric, Madam Pomfrey turned her gaze to Sherlock, her brows furrowing even more deeply.

"Were you burned?"

“I don’t think so, but the teachers are worried and insisted that I come and check.” Sherlock shrugged.

"You were right to bring me here!"

Ms. Pomfrey said with a stern face, "The flames spewed by the fire dragon are not ordinary flames; they have extremely strong penetrating and corrosive properties."

Even a mere glancing blow would require an object with very strong defensive capabilities to withstand... Wait, what's this?

She suddenly stopped speaking, her gaze falling on the hem of Sherlock's robe, and then reached in and pulled out a disc-shaped object.

The edges of the object were charred black, and there were still a few sparks on its surface.

“Oh, this is rock crust cake,” Sherlock explained calmly.

Ms. Pomfrey looked at her incredulously: "You came to the Triwizard Tournament, why did you bring it with you?"

Cedric, standing to the side, also stared wide-eyed.

"You might not believe it, but I thought I might get hungry during the competition, so I brought it with me when I came."

Sherlock said in a very serious tone.

Ms. Pomfrey: "..."

Cedric: "..."

A brief silence fell over the tent, with only the scent of herbs filling the air.

It took Ms. Pomfrey a moment to recover.

She looked at the rock-skinned flatbread with a complicated expression, then at Sherlock:

"In any case, it protected you, which is a good thing—without it, you probably would have been burned..."

She paused, then added, "But I don't recommend you eat it—it, you know, is too hard."

Sherlock smiled slightly, nodded, and said he understood.

A sly glint flashed in his eyes.

This thing wasn't originally meant to be eaten.

(End of this chapter)