Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 618 The real battle has just begun

"Hey, why are those three taking a picture with Sherlock's family?"

Ron watched as the Holmes couple, the Sherlock brothers, Hermione, Gemma, and Fleur huddled together, posing for the camera. He couldn't help but touch his nose and say, puzzled:
"Why didn't you call me along? I'm Sherlock's good friend too!"

What were you doing there? Just there to make up the numbers?

Ginny rolled her eyes in annoyance. This brother of hers really had no tact whatsoever, and she didn't know what to say about him.

"I was just asking a question, why are you taking it out on me!"

Ron muttered aggrievedly, about to offer another explanation, when Sirius suddenly waved to Ginny:

"Ginny, come here quickly!"

The siblings followed Sirius's gaze and saw that Harry had already taken his place with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon was unusually not frowning, and Aunt Petunia had straightened her collar.

To Ginny's even greater surprise, Cho Chang had somehow appeared next to Harry, giving him a slight smile.

Ginny's expression instantly brightened, and her eyes lit up.

Her earlier displeasure vanished instantly, and without saying a word, she ran towards Sirius.

With Sirius's arrangement, Cho Chang and Ginny stood on either side of Harry, the three young people beaming with smiles.

Sirius Black and the Dursleys stood behind them. Uncle Vernon's expression was still a little stiff, but he didn't deliberately put on a sour face.

The group posed for a photo, capturing this rare moment.

hmmmmmm…

Ron looked left and right, up and down, and then he realized something.

It turns out that every girl is extraordinary.

On the field, everyone laughed, joked, sang, and danced to celebrate the successful conclusion of the three-way competition, and their cheers echoed in the night sky.

“That’s it for today!”

Dumbledore stood in the center of the field, his silver beard gleaming softly in the starlight, his robes fluttering gently in the evening breeze.

He wore a gentle smile, and his voice, amplified by magic, reached everyone's ears clearly:

"I hereby declare the Triwizard Tournament a successful conclusion—I wish you all a wonderful evening!"

Although everyone was still reluctant to leave, since Dumbledore had said so, they could only turn around and return to the castle with reluctance.

Harry quickly spotted his two teammates in the crowd and hurried after them:

"Sherlock, Cedric, the prize money...when do we distribute it?"

"You can take it first."

Cedric, who was talking to his parents, smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder upon hearing this:

"Get a good rest tonight and recharge your energy. We can discuss these things tomorrow."

"Uh... well."

Harry hesitated for a moment, looked at the heavy money bag in his hand, and then nodded in agreement.

Cedric is right; now is definitely not the time to dwell on how to allocate the bonuses.

After parting ways with Cedric, Harry let out a long sigh of relief, stretched, and sounded completely at ease.

"it is finally over!"

This academic year was dominated by the Triwizard Tournament, from being unexpectedly chosen for the Goblet of Fire at the beginning to facing dangerous projects time and time again.

Only at this moment did he truly breathe a sigh of relief, feeling as if the heavy burden on his shoulders had finally been lifted.

"Finish?"

Hearing Harry's words, Sherlock turned his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, and gently shook his head:
"No, my dear Harry, the real battle has only just begun."

"what?"

Harry was stunned by what he heard.

The third project has been successfully completed, and they have already won the Triple Cup. What battles await them next?

Just as he was filled with doubt, Gemma strode towards the two of them, her expression more serious than usual:
"Sherlock, Harry, Dumbledore wants you to go to the Headmaster's office now. He says it's important."

"what?"

Harry's eyes widened even more.

Why is the principal calling them at this time? Is it about the follow-up matters of the competition?
Judging from Gemma's expression, it doesn't seem that simple.

"Let's go."

Sherlock took the heavy bag of gold coins from Harry and handed it to Gemma, saying, "You take this first."

Gemma took the money bag containing a thousand Galleons, her gaze fixed on Sherlock, her tone tinged with worry:
"Sherlock, you...you all must be careful."

"The hunters are ready, just waiting for their prey to walk into their trap."

Seeing Sherlock's confident demeanor, and considering her involvement and understanding of the matter over the past few days, Gemma's worries lessened slightly.

She looked at the two of them and added earnestly, "You can just go directly there. I will tell the others about this."

After parting ways with Gemma, the two headed towards the principal's office.

On the way, Harry finally couldn't help but ask again, "Sherlock, what is it?"

"Do you remember that dream of yours?" Sherlock didn't answer directly, but asked in return.

"Dream?"

Harry was taken aback at first, then immediately realized what was happening, and his expression instantly turned serious:
"You mean Voldemort's plan! He's going to use the Triwizard Tournament to cause trouble!"

Yes, in his dream, Voldemort explicitly told his allies that he would make a move during the Triwizard Tournament.

And then there's Barty Crouch Jr., who, according to Sherlock's deduction, has already infiltrated the school.

But now that the competition is over, everything is calm and peaceful, which is the most abnormal thing.

“Very good, dear Harry, now we’re going to meet this old friend.”

Harry noticed that Sherlock's eyes were shining and he was in a state of excitement.

He had never been this excited, whether he was navigating the maze or winning the championship.

Harry's heart started racing, and a sense of tension instantly spread through him.

Are we going to meet Voldemort again?

Although it's unknown how Sherlock found his hiding place, that's no longer important.

"What...what do I need to do?"

"Nothing is needed."

Sherlock patted him on the shoulder, his tone relaxed, "At times like this, all you need to do is smile."

When the two arrived at the headmaster's office, Dumbledore's gentle voice came from inside:
"Please come in."

Upon opening the door, they found that a considerable number of people had already gathered in the office.

Dumbledore sat in the main seat, while the four Heads of House—Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Snape—along with Professor Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, stood on either side of the room, their expressions solemn.

This is just the school's lineup. In addition, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and Ludobagman, the Director of Sport who presided over the Triwizard Tournament, were also included.

The Triple Crown Cup they had just won was still gleaming enticingly on their desk.

Seeing this display of force, Harry was stunned, and his unease intensified.

"Sherlock, Harry, you've arrived?" Dumbledore's gentle smile broke the heavy atmosphere in the room as he saw the two enter.

"Albus, why did you call them over here?"

Unlike Dumbledore, Fudge frowned immediately upon seeing Harry and Sherlock, his tone clearly showing displeasure:
"Didn't you say you called us here to talk about the mysterious man? What does this have to do with the two children?"

"It's Voldemort, Cornelius."

Dumbledore's tone remained calm, but his eyes became exceptionally determined when he mentioned that name.

Upon hearing the name, both Fudge and Bagman shuddered involuntarily, their faces turning slightly pale.

“I have said this more than once many years ago.”

Dumbledore ignored their reactions and continued:
"Fear of the name of a thing can intensify fear of the thing itself."

If we can't even face his name, how can we be brave enough to face him when he truly returns?

"Do you really believe the mysterious man has returned?"

Fudge looked extremely surprised, and his body swayed slightly:
“Albus, I must say that it’s right to be vigilant, but if you’re trying to deliberately create panic, then I absolutely cannot agree to it…”

Was it intentional?

Snape suddenly sneered, interrupting Fudge.

He strode forward, past Dumbledore, and abruptly rolled up the left sleeve of his robe, stretching his arm right under Fudge's nose.

"Look, the Dark Mark, isn't it obvious?"

Snape's voice was icy, and his gaze toward Fudge was full of disdain:
"I think you know very well that every Death Eater bears the mark of Voldemort."

This is how Death Eaters identify each other, and it's also Voldemort's code to summon them back to his side.

Over the past year, this mark has become increasingly obvious, as has the case with Karkarov.

Why do you think Karkaroff has been so restless lately?

It's because we both clearly sensed that Voldemort's power was increasing; he was about to return!

"Impossible, absolutely impossible!"

Even with irrefutable evidence before him, Fudge still seemed unwilling to believe this cruel truth.

His two little feet were unsteady, swaying back and forth for a moment, his hands unconsciously spinning the top hat on his head, his expression flustered.

Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a hint of pleading:

“He won’t come back, Albus. He’s been defeated by Harry, hasn’t he? He can’t…”

“Escaping the truth is pointless, Connelly.”

Dumbledore's tone turned serious. He spoke, then suddenly stopped and turned to look at the office door.

The familiar "thump, thump, thump" sound rang out; it was the sound of Moody's prosthetic leg striking the ground.

"Please come in."

Moody pushed open the office door and immediately saw the tense situation before him, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Albus, tell me you have news of the Dark Lord."

His gaze swept over everyone in the office, finally lingering on Harry for a long moment, his eyes filled with complex emotions. "What exactly happened?"

"I am fairly certain that Voldemort has very likely been resurrected."

Dumbledore looked at "Moody" and said calmly.

Upon hearing this, both Fudge and Bagman's eyes narrowed sharply.

As for Moody, his face turned as pale as Fudge's.

He stared intently at Dumbledore:

Are you sure? What evidence do you have?

“I’m not sure, that’s why I wanted to ask you to confirm,” Dumbledore said.

"Find me?"

Moody's prosthetic eye spun around rapidly, as if pondering why he needed to verify such a thing.

He sensed something was wrong and quietly reached his right hand into his robe, trying to grasp the wand hidden inside.

Before his fingers could even touch the wand, Flitwick and Snape had already attacked simultaneously.

The two raised their wands almost simultaneously and chanted spells:

"Except your weapons!"

"All petrified!"

Two dazzling red lights struck Moody one after the other.

He had only pulled the wand halfway out of his hand when it flew into the air, only to be caught by Professor Lupin as it fell back down.

Moody himself flew straight backward and crashed heavily onto the floor, unable to move.

Snape and Flitwick exchanged a glance.

This round of competition was evenly matched, with neither side gaining the upper hand.

Even so, Moody did not give up the struggle, making muffled sounds in his throat:

"I'm here for a meeting, what are you doing?"

Unfortunately, he was subdued by two top dueling masters.

When the opponent is caught off guard, he has absolutely no chance to resist.

At this moment, Professor Lupin stepped forward, waved his wand, and chanted a spell.

Countless ropes immediately appeared in the air, coiling around Moody as if they were alive, binding him tightly.

Fudge and Bagman were completely stunned by the scene, staring dumbfounded at Moody, who was tied up like a dumpling.

After a long while, Fudge stammered:
"Albus, what are you doing?"
Why target Moody's?

“No, Connelly, that’s not Alastormudy.”

Dumbledore withdrew his gaze, first glancing at Sherlock with a hint of approval in his eyes, then turning to Fudge and slowly saying:
"Sherlock told me that you certainly wouldn't easily believe us, so he suggested that you participate in this operation and witness the truth with your own eyes."

Now it seems his prediction has come true once again.

Upon hearing this, Fudge looked at Sherlock with an incredulous expression on his face.

"It's no use talking more."

Sherlock didn't bother to explain, his gaze fixed on the bound Moody, and said indifferently:

"The truth is about to come to light."

"Well said."

Dumbledore nodded, bent down, and pulled a curved wine bottle and a set of keys from Moody, who was bound like a dumpling.

After retrieving these, he stood up, looked at Professor McGonagall, and handed her the bunch of keys:

“Minerva, I need to trouble you to go to this ‘Moody’s’ residence at the school. I think the real Alastor should be there.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and then quickly left.

(End of this chapter)