Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 606 The Palace of Thought
"Professor, it would have been so good if you had guided us like this sooner!"

After Lupin gave Harry his final pre-match coaching under the guise of giving him extra points on the exam, Ron was so excited his cheeks turned red, and he was almost incoherent:

"With your guidance, we're sure to win this three-way battle!"

"Ahem, what I mean is, there will definitely be a lot of extra points on this exam!"

"Quality over quantity."

Lupin pretended not to hear the first part of Ron's sentence.

His gaze fell on Harry, full of encouragement and expectation:

"This is a testament to the power of accumulated experience. Without your hard work and accumulation over this period, my guidance would not have had such a significant effect."

Also, remember to stay alert when faced with chaos and sensory distractions, trust your intuition, and most importantly, trust your companions.

As he spoke, he glanced towards the empty seat where Sherlock usually sat, his gaze carrying a meaningful meaning:

"Sherlock's methods are unique, but he is absolutely right about one thing—keeping a clear mind is the key to dealing with everything."

Fear and anger can both blind you and lead you to make wrong judgments.

"Thank you, Professor."

Harry nodded solemnly, feeling a warm glow in his heart.

At that moment, he seemed to finally understand Lupin's deep-seated guilt and concern.

It was this profound emotion that led Lu Ping, who has always followed the rules, to make this unprecedented move of giving special treatment to Lu Ping.

It was a minor slip-up in her public persona.

"All right."

Professor Lupin resumed his usual gentle smile and patted Harry lightly on the shoulder:

That's all for today.

You've done a great job. Go back and get some rest and recharge.

I believe the warriors of Hogwarts will not disappoint.

Also, you all received extra points on your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.

Even at the very end, Professor Lu Ping didn't forget to make amends for his exceptional decision.

He managed to salvage his slightly shaky public image.

After thanking Lu Ping, the three packed up their things and left the classroom.

By this time, there were hardly any people left in the corridor. The afterglow of the setting sun slanted through the high windows, casting long shadows on the stone floor.

Dust particles floated in the air, dancing gently within the beams of light.

"Professor Lupin is really different today."

Ron muttered as he walked, "What he said at the end felt much more sophisticated than what we usually teach in class."

He was worried about Sherlock and Harry.

Hermione astutely pointed out the crux of the matter:

He also specifically mentioned sensory disturbances and the hostility of the environment...

This makes me very uneasy, Harry. The third project is probably much more complicated and dangerous than we think.

I think I need to go back to the library and see if there are any relevant defensive spells or maze-solving techniques..."

Hey, Hermione!

Ron interrupted her helplessly:

We are well prepared.

He's learned all the spells on that list, and even Lupin said there were no problems!
Can you please stop thinking about the library for a moment? You have an exam tomorrow!
Look, even Sherlock hasn't come back yet! It's almost dark!

Hermione paused noticeably when Sherlock was mentioned.

Her gaze involuntarily drifted towards the Quidditch pitch outside the window.

The setting sun cast a golden-red halo over the distant stadium, like a thin veil.

Standing in this position, you can't see the specific situation inside at all; you can only vaguely see the vast outline of the maze.

"Perhaps you are right."

Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to temporarily shift her attention away from the knowledge base and Sherlock.

But I'm still a little worried...

He's been gone so long; if he was just doing reconnaissance, he should have been back by now..."

"Don't worry, that's Sherlock!"

Ron patted his chest and said in an exaggerated tone:

"It's good enough that he doesn't cause trouble for others. He might be hiding in some corner, analyzing the gaps between every brick in the maze and the angle of every branch!"

When the official competition begins, the things to worry about are the monsters Hagrid threw in, as well as the competitors Beauxbatons and Durmstrang!
Oh, hopefully Sherlock will go easy on Fleur and Krum…

Hermione ignored him.

"Ron is right."

Harry laughed and patted Hermione on the shoulder:

"Let's go eat in the auditorium first. Maybe he'll be back after we finish eating."

The three quickened their pace and walked towards the auditorium.

Although Hermione was persuaded, Lupin's final, heavy, and pointed words, as well as Sherlock's delayed return, still hung over her like a small dark cloud.

Just as they turned the corner of the corridor, Hermione subconsciously glanced back out the window again.

The Quidditch pitch was just a blurry outline in the twilight. She bit her lower lip gently, a strong premonition rising in her heart for no apparent reason.

She always felt that the vast labyrinth that was about to become the final battlefield was shrouded in an ominous silence, as if it were brewing some terrible conspiracy.

While Hermione was feeling uneasy, Sherlock, whom she was thinking about, was at the edge of the Quidditch pitch.

The maze was completed several days ago, and now it's completely unrecognizable.

A twenty-foot-high dark green hedge, like a solid city wall, completely enclosed the edge of the site.

The hedges were trimmed unusually neatly, yet they exuded a sense of oppressiveness that kept strangers at bay.

The setting sun cast a golden glow, turning the outline of the vast labyrinth a deep purple and casting long, slanted shadows resembling the crouching of a giant beast.

The neatly trimmed hedges appeared even more somber in the twilight, as if swallowing the last rays of light, leaving only an unsettling stillness.

Occasionally, a gentle evening breeze would blow by, causing the hedge branches and leaves to rustle softly.

Sherlock stood tall and focused, the Marauder's Map spread out in his hand, carefully examining every detail as he compared it to the map. Gemma stood beside him.

As time passed, the setting sun cast their shadows longer and longer until they slowly overlapped on the ground.

She pointed to the blurry, undulating area at the heart of the map, resembling ink spreading across the surface, her voice tinged with surprise:
"It's quite surprising; the Confusion Spell's power is beyond imagination."

The paths and names of the core area are completely blocked; even this magical map cannot penetrate them.

This was the first time she had ever seen the Marauder's Map, and she was amazed that Sherlock possessed such a magical item.

She was even more proud that Sherlock was willing to tell her this.

She originally thought that only Hermione was love-struck, but now it seems that she herself is a little bit like that.

Pulling herself back to reality, she leaned forward slightly and added cautiously:
"However, the defensive marks near the entrance are not hard to see."

I could smell the distinctive sulfurous odor of the blasting snails Hagrid cultivated, as well as the unique spore scent of Professor Sprout's magical little plants.

Hmm, there's also the woody scent of newly sprouted thorns mixed in; it must be a trap to hinder our progress.

Sherlock did not respond immediately.

He slowly crouched down, his fingertips brushing across the ground at the entrance to the maze.

After experiencing the rough and cold touch, he picked up a few strands of carbonized grass clippings, examined them carefully with a magic magnifying glass, and then gently smelled them under his nose.

"More than these."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he said:
"Judging from the distribution angle and depth of these marks, they are not simply tears caused by biological impact or plant entanglement."

It appears to be the remnant of a directional energy burst, with the angles mostly concentrated at key path nodes.

Hey, look, there are even scorch marks from magical burning on the edges.

This might be traces of a pre-set magical trap being activated. Interesting.

He paused for a moment, then said, "I think this must be a breach left by someone testing the strength of the defense, and the tester must have been quite strong."

Upon hearing this, Gemma immediately moved closer to Sherlock and carefully examined the subtle, almost imperceptible marks in the direction he was pointing.

A moment later, her gaze towards Sherlock was once again filled with admiration and conviction:
"That's right. The residual energy in these traces is very special; it wasn't caused by ordinary defensive magic."

After saying that, she couldn't help but laugh, her tone slightly teasing:
"It seems that the protective measures set up by the Ministry of Magic have instead exposed the location of their pre-planned checkpoints."

I think they have no idea that there are people like you in this world.

Should we just go in and take a look? I don't see anyone stopping us around here.

"Ministry of Magic, huh..."

Knowing that Gemma was just joking, Sherlock chuckled and shook his head, the sarcasm at the corner of his mouth not too obvious.

Ever since he demystified the magical world, he has seen more and more clearly the department's competence, and now he is completely too lazy to comment on it.

He asked Harry for the Marauder's Map this time, just in case.

Just as Harry told Lupin, all three Hogwarts champions were confident of taking on the third project.

But combined with Harry's dreams stemming from his scars, he had already concluded that Voldemort and his allies were planning to sabotage the third project.

Given his personality, he would naturally not overlook any potential danger.

Sherlock stood up, dusted off his hands, and turned his gaze back to the magical parchment.

The tiny ink dots and names representing students and professors move slowly and orderly across the floor plan of the castle and grounds, like stars.

His gaze was like a scanner, sweeping across every corner of the map, quickly filtering through massive amounts of information and selecting useful clues.

Suddenly, his gaze settled on a name that was slowly moving along the second-floor corridor of the castle.

The name made him furrow his brow almost imperceptibly, and his breath hitched slightly.
This was a subtle pause that was almost impossible for others to detect.

However, ever since Gemma came here with Sherlock, her attention has been focused on him.

So even though the movement was very subtle, she still managed to notice it.

She followed Sherlock's frozen gaze, her pupils contracting slightly, her tone tinged with doubt:
"Barty Crouch?"

After pronouncing the name, she tilted her head slightly and said, somewhat puzzled:
"Is it the former Director of the International Magical Cooperation Division of the Ministry of Magic?"

Why is he coming to Hogwarts instead of enjoying his retirement at home?
"Hasn't this three-way competition been completely handed over to Mr. Bagman and his department?"

The official statement from the Ministry of Magic is that Barty Crouch needs to rest for a period of time due to health reasons.

But for a pure-blooded family like the Farley family, they can naturally find out more inside information.

Barty Crouch has retired early, completely withdrawing from the power center of the Ministry of Magic.

However, even the Farley family did not know the real reason why Barty Crouch left the Ministry of Magic.

Gemma's casual words instantly resolved Sherlock's doubts.

A strange impulse compelled him to continue his pursuit.

Almost instantly, Sherlock entered a mysterious state.

His brain started working at an unprecedentedly terrifying speed, with countless clues rushing and colliding in his mind.

At this moment, the well-ordered mental palace that Sherlock had built in his mind quietly disappeared, replaced by a magnificent and solemn mental palace.

Several figures identical to him appeared in the hall, each holding different clues, and began to rapidly sort through and integrate all the known information:
The Marauder's Map shows that "Barty Crouch" is currently inside Hogwarts Castle.

Following last year's events, Barty Crouch left the Ministry of Magic, and Dumbledore confirmed that he is still recuperating at home and would never appear at Hogwarts.

But the Marauder's Map never lies—even last year's Peter Pettigrew, disguised as Scabbers the mouse, was still accurately marked with his real name.

While maps don't lie, they also can't detect duplicate names.

The Batty Crouch father and son share the same first and last name.

Barty Crouch Jr. was kidnapped while being transported by Aurors after last year's Quidditch World Cup.

In Harry's dream, Barty Crouch Jr. is entrusted with an important task by Voldemort.

Voldemort made it clear that his plan was to use the Triwizard Tournament, and even praised Barty Jr. for doing a good job...

In Sherlock's lightning-fast mental storm, all the fragments were instantly and seamlessly pieced together, forming a complete logical chain.

Finally, all the Sherlock Holmeses spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping and converging into an undeniable conclusion:

"there is only one truth!"

“The ‘Barty Crouch’ on the map is not the former Director of the Ministry of Magic that Gemma thought he was, but his son, Barty Crouch Jr.!”

"He has successfully deceived everyone, somehow infiltrated Hogwarts, and is lurking among us, waiting for the third project to arrive so he can carry out Voldemort's plan!"

At this moment, Sherlock's Memory Attic was upgraded.

He called this mental space, which can simultaneously accommodate countless clues and conduct multi-dimensional reasoning, the "Palace of Thought"!

(End of this chapter)