Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 591 You all have to thank Hagrid
After Sherlock returned to Hogwarts, he caught up on all the homework he had missed in just two nights.

In the dim candlelight, his hand holding the quill pen moved with lightning speed, yet the writing on the parchment scroll remained perfectly neat.

This astonishing efficiency even made Hermione, a top student known for her diligence, widen her eyes and unconsciously tighten her grip on "Strange Magical Problems and Their Solutions".

It was only at this point that she truly realized just how vast the gap was between herself and Sherlock.

That's a gap that's almost like a dimensional reduction attack.

I can’t catch up. I can’t catch up at all!
But Hermione immediately pursed her lips, a defiant glint in her eyes.

Even if you can't catch up, you have to keep chasing!

Otherwise, he will only leave you further and further behind!

For all Quidditch players, life suddenly became much easier after Easter.

At the start of the summer semester, Quidditch players from each college would be sweating profusely, preparing for the final crucial game of the season.

However, the Quidditch Academy Cup was cancelled this year due to the Triwizard Tournament.

This made the Quidditch players, including Harry, feel like something was missing, and for a moment they even felt a sense of disorientation.

"We don't even know what we're supposed to do right now..."

Harry sighed deeply, his shoulders slumped slightly, and his eyes were full of confusion.

The road ahead was shrouded in thick fog, making it impossible to know where to begin.

Fortunately, he had learned from Sherlock that Marvolo Gaunt's ring had been found and that the Horcrux had been destroyed.

This news put him at ease a little, and his tense nerves relaxed somewhat.

“Two are already destroyed, and there are four left—if only we could destroy them all.” Harry’s voice held a hint of anticipation.

"No need to rush."

Sherlock looked much calmer than Harry.

His fingertips tapped lightly on the table:

"Judging from the fact that the rings passed down from the Gaunt family were made into Horcruxes by Voldemort, our current line of thinking is correct."

Voldemort enjoyed collecting souvenirs; he favored items with powerful magic and historical significance.

His pride, his sense of superiority, and his determination to occupy an astonishing place in the history of magic all led him to carefully select his Horcruxes, favoring items worthy of this honor.

Therefore, as long as the direction is correct, with Dumbledore's abilities and connections, he should be able to discover the other four Horcruxes very soon.

By the way, have you been dreaming about Voldemort lately?

“No,” Harry shook his head, then after a few seconds belatedly realized what he meant, his eyes filled with confusion, “Sherlock, why are you asking this…”

"Not dreaming about him proves that his emotions have not fluctuated strongly recently."

Sherlock's eyes suddenly sharpened:
"Barty Crouch Jr. has been rescued for some time now, and Voldemort has no reason not to take action."

The most likely scenario is that he has already taken action, but we just haven't noticed.

If I were him, I would never let this opportunity slip by.

"What opportunity?" Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"The Three-Way Battle".

Upon hearing this, Harry froze, a chill running down his spine, and he was filled with dread.

"Calm down, Harry."

Sherlock placed his hand on his shoulder:
"The closer it gets to the end, the calmer you need to be."

Since they intend to take advantage of the three-way championship, they will inevitably make some moves.

I won't give them a chance.

Seeing Sherlock's confident gaze, Harry's heart, which had just been in turmoil because of Sherlock's deduction, immediately settled back into his stomach.

They have Sherlock here!

Whoever became Voldemort's ally, his intelligence could never match Sherlock's.

Finally, the last week of May arrived.

After a Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall called Sherlock and Harry back as they were leaving the classroom.

She looked at her two favorite students with a smile and said:
"Holmes, Potter, you two go to the Quidditch pitch downstairs at nine o'clock tonight."

Mr. Bagman and Mr. Moody will be there to tell the warriors what the third project is.

The two agreed and arrived at the lobby at 8:30 to meet Cedric, who was coming out of the Hufflepuff common room.

The three of them walked down the stone steps together. The night was as thick as ink, and the sky was covered with dark clouds, so there was not a single star in sight. The evening breeze was a bit cool, and it blew the hems of their clothes.

"Sherlock, what do you think it will be, the third project?" Cedric couldn't help but ask, his tone tinged with curiosity.

“Insufficient clues, unable to make a conclusion.” Sherlock’s voice was exceptionally clear in the night.

“Some people think it will be an underground tunnel…” Cedric added.

"Is this Miss Delacour's conjecture?" Sherlock said without turning his head.

“Sherlock, how did you know?” Cedric stopped in surprise and turned to look at him.

"Because she also nagged me about the underground tunnels, thinking we were looking for treasure." Sherlock's tone was flat and indifferent.

Cedric looked at Sherlock in surprise, his eyes widening slightly.

Since becoming his dance partner at the Christmas ball, Fleur de Lacour has indeed grown quite close to him.

But judging from Sherlock's tone, it seemed like he knew Fleur better than he did.

Just as he was filled with doubt, a clear female voice came from behind him:
"Hi there!"

The three looked in the direction of the sound and saw that Fleur Delacour, Phili Lavin, and Loy Levan of Beauxbatons were walking towards them.

Moonlight shone through the gaps in the clouds, outlining the beautiful silhouette of Furong. She wore a radiant smile and was the one who had greeted her.

"Holmes, how have you been lately?"

Fleur walked straight up to Sherlock, tilted her head slightly, and smiled as brightly as the warm spring sun.

"The same as always." Sherlock nodded slightly.

After Fleur, the relatively reserved Phili Raven and Loy Levan also greeted Sherlock, their eyes filled with obvious friendliness.

This scene puzzled Cedric even more, and he frowned involuntarily.

When did Sherlock become so close to Beauxbatons' people?

Harry, standing to the side, didn't find it strange at all.

Because Sherlock told Fleur the riddle of the golden egg.

It was thanks to this help that Beauxbatons was able to beat Durmstrang in the second project and avoid finishing last.

They naturally felt grateful to Sherlock.

In addition, Harry also vaguely knew about Fleur's special identity.

She was specially assigned by Mycroft to monitor Sherlock.

But now Fleur has decisively sided with Sherlock, naturally leaning towards Hogwarts.

“Dracul, do you still think the last project is the underground tunnel?” Cedric couldn’t help but ask, his tone tinged with a hint of probing.

Hibiscus nodded, her eyes resolute: "That's right, I think they'll send us to find the treasure."

"It would be nice if that were the case."

Harry said this, already starting to plan in his mind: he could just borrow a Niffler from Hagrid and let it do the treasure hunt, saving time and effort.

“Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough,” Phili Raven said with a smile, turning to Sherlock. “What do you think, Great Detective?”

"Insufficient clues to make a conclusion," Sherlock said once again.

The six of them chatted as they walked along the dark lawn toward the Quidditch pitch.

The grass beneath their feet, damp with the night's moisture, soaked the edges of their shoes.

As he walked through a gap in the stands into the pitch, Cedric suddenly stopped, his face contorted with anger, and his voice rose several decibels:

"What have they been doing here?"

Harry also looked surprised.

The once smooth and flat Quidditch pitch was now covered with countless long, low walls.

These low walls are intricate and complex, like a giant spider web, winding and twisting in all directions, dividing the entire stadium into fragments.

He instantly understood why Cedric was angry.

As Quidditch players at Hogwarts, this stadium holds so many of their sweat and memories.

It's natural to feel heartbroken and angry to see it so wantonly destroyed.

"It looks like a wall?"

Loylevan crouched down, carefully observing the low wall closest to him, his fingers gently touching the rough surface.

He wasn't a Hogwarts student and didn't care about the changes in the venue; he was more curious.

Sherlock stood still, his gaze sweeping over the crisscrossing low walls, while discreetly observing the expressions on everyone's faces.

A knowing glint flashed in his eyes, and he already had a general idea in mind.

"Hi, how are you?"

Just then, a cheerful voice broke the silence.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw Ludobagman standing in the center of the field.

Beside him were Durmstrang's three warriors: Viktor Krum, Toby Tosson, and Lucas Polyaco.

Bagman, dressed in a brightly colored tracksuit, was waving enthusiastically at them, his face beaming with a warm smile.
"Come here quickly!"

Without a word, Sherlock took the lead and stepped forward, steadily crossing the low walls.

Harry and Cedric exchanged a glance and quickly followed.

Although the three Beauxbatons were a beat behind, they quickly caught up and walked towards the center of the field.

What do you guys think of this place?

As Sherlock climbed over the last low wall and approached, Bagman opened his arms wide and asked excitedly:

"Good progress, isn't it? In another month, Hagrid will have them twenty feet tall!"

Sherlock and Beauxbatons remained expressionless upon hearing this, merely glancing indifferently at the low walls.

Harry and Cedric, however, still looked displeased, their brows furrowed.

Seeing this, Bagman immediately understood what the two were thinking and quickly tried to smooth things over with a smile:
"Don't worry, my dear children—once the tournament is over, your Quidditch pitch will be back to normal!"
Okay, I think you can probably guess what we're going to do here, right?

The eight people, excluding Sherlock, all shook their heads, their faces full of confusion.

Sherlock glanced at the awkward scene and sighed softly.

He had no interest in answering such an obvious question.

A brief silence fell over the scene, and the atmosphere became somewhat awkward.

After a moment, Krum suddenly said in a gruff voice, "Could it be a maze?"

"That's right, it's a maze!"

Bagman seemed to have finally found a way out, breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly blurted out everything in one breath:
"The third project is the maze!"

Compared to the first and second projects, isn't it simple and straightforward?
To put it simply, the Triwizard Tournament Cup is located right in the center of the maze. Whichever team is the first to encounter it will get full marks!

"It sounds simple..."

Furong immediately spoke, then frowned:
"But wouldn't that mean the other two teams that didn't win the trophy would both get zero points?"
So what's the point of the first two projects?

Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces showing a look of approval.

Yes, the first person to get the trophy after navigating the maze gets a perfect score, and the order in which the other teams go becomes irrelevant.

The gap between Hogwarts, currently ranked number one, and Durmstrang, ranked number three, is not as large as fifty points.

If Durmstrang is the first to win the trophy in the final event, then Hogwarts and Beauxbatons' previous lead will be wiped out.

"Of course it's not meaningless."

A series of heavy footsteps approached, and Alastormudi walked over from the other side of the wall.

His prosthetic eyes swung around in their sockets, scanning everyone present.

He must have been inspecting deep inside the maze, so no one noticed him.

Upon hearing Furong's words, he slowly said, "The warriors leading in points will be the first to enter the maze."

"That's right!"

Bagman spoke cheerfully, jumping around on tiptoe like an excited child:
"Based on the current standings, the Hogwarts Warriors will go in first, then Beauxbatons... and finally Durmstrang."

Everyone nodded, and the doubts on their faces gradually disappeared.

This rule arrangement at least takes into account the results of the first two projects.

"What's in the maze?" Cedric couldn't help but ask, his tone tinged with wariness. "It's not just about finding our way, is it?"

"of course not."

Bagman chuckled, a mysterious glint in his eyes, "You all have to thank Hagrid; he provided the organizers with a whole bunch of animals..."

Upon hearing this, Sherlock's lips curled into a very faint smile, almost imperceptible.

"Holmes, what are you laughing at?"

Moody's prosthetic eye immediately turned precisely, staring intently at Sherlock with a scrutinizing tone.

Sherlock remained calm and replied, "I remembered something happy."

"What happy thing?"

Moody pressed on relentlessly, leaning forward slightly, exuding a palpable sense of pressure.

"The 'Flaming Tail Snail' can finally be put to use."

Sherlock's voice remained calm, yet it startled everyone present.

(End of this chapter)