During the 1993-1994 academic year, when Percy, Gemma, Penelope and their unit graduated from Hogwarts, Harry secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Admittedly, the relationship between Sherlock and Gemma had always given off an impression of friendship as pure as water between gentlemen.
Although Sherlock and Hermione had spent more time together and had known each other earlier.
However, from Harry's simple romantic perspective, Gemma actually had greater advantages over Hermione.
First, in terms of intelligence and insight, Gemma was no less capable than Hermione.
Second, Gemma was also one of the few women whose opinions Sherlock cared about.
Third, Gemma was far more attractive than Hermione.
Of course, this was Harry's personal view.
Sherlock had never cared about appearances.
Although it might be somewhat unfair to Hermione, this was indeed what Harry thought: if Gemma had really stayed here, Hermione wouldn't have had a chance.
Fortunately, Gemma had left.
Once Gemma departed, a union between Hermione and Sherlock would be the natural course of development.
After all, Hermione's brilliance was equally remarkable, and her rational temperament meshed well with Sherlock's.
So, Harry believed that as time passed, the relationship between Sherlock and Hermione would inevitably develop naturally.
But now, Gemma had returned.
Although Charlie said she came for work.
Although the rules restricted her from meeting or corresponding with Sherlock before the competition.
But her sudden appearance here was itself a huge variable.
Even if she only stayed for a short year.
Even if it was just for the brief period of the first task.
Harry believed she would inevitably affect the budding feelings that might have developed between Sherlock and Hermione.
That said, if Sherlock could actually date Gemma, it wouldn't be a bad thing.
But the problem was...
Harry turned his head to look at Sherlock beside him.
Under the moonlight, that angular face, half-bright and half-dark, showed not a trace of excess emotion.
It was as if seeing Gemma just now had no impact on him at all.
This inevitably filled Harry's heart with a sense of helplessness.
This guy...
But thinking about it carefully, it made sense.
After all, Sherlock had explicitly declared more than once that he wasn't interested in "love" or "romantic relationships"—these emotional distractions.
He had also coldly and rationally analyzed for Harry more than once that these were byproducts of biological evolution, unnecessary factors that dispersed one's energy.
When they were younger, it hadn't seemed so obvious.
But over these past two years, as Harry himself began to develop hazy feelings for those beautiful girls, he gradually realized how serious this matter was!
Sherlock's world was already filled with knowledge, magic, logic, and imminent danger.
There was simply no room left for emotions.
Whether it was Hermione's usual gentle care or Gemma's forceful return now.
Before the high wall of rationality that was Sherlock, both seemed somewhat pale.
"Sherlock."
Thinking of this, Harry couldn't help but speak again.
His voice carried a contradictory emotion he couldn't fully understand himself: "Gemma just said that before the task ends, she can't meet with you or correspond with you, you..."
He actually wanted to ask whether Sherlock would feel regret or anticipation, or whether he hoped Gemma was here.
But he didn't dare be so direct.
At the same time, Hermione's face surfaced in his mind again.
"You know, Hermione also..."
After thinking about it, he swallowed the second half of that sentence.
He also knew that Sherlock didn't care at all about what he was trying to hint at.
"Rules are rules."
Sherlock's voice was without any ripples. "The Triwizard Tournament comes first, the first task comes first—this is a completely normal choice."
His gaze was firm, and his steps showed not the slightest hesitation.
As if the challenge they were about to face was the only thing worth discussing at this moment.
Harry looked at his friend's calm and focused profile, and seemed to feel the rationality and restraint emanating from him.
Thinking of this, he ultimately swallowed all the thoughts about Hermione and Gemma that had rushed to his lips.
He understood.
Now was indeed not the time to talk about such private matters.
Whoever's feelings they were, in Sherlock's eyes at this moment, they all seemed insignificant, even disruptive.
He took a deep breath of the cold air, cast aside the tangled mess in his mind, quickened his pace, and caught up with Sherlock.
At this moment, Harry even felt somewhat amused.
He'd been so busy worrying about Sherlock that he'd completely forgotten the real issue.
Dragons!
That was what they were about to face.
Interestingly enough, seeing them before the official competition, Harry couldn't quite say whether he was happy about it.
But overall, knowing the first task involved dragons was probably better.
After all, the initial terror had passed.
If he'd only seen the dragons for the first time on Tuesday, without exaggeration, he might have fainted on the spot in front of all the students...
Never mind that the organizers only allowed them to carry wands as their sole weapon—the thing now looked just like a thin little stick.
Even if they were allowed to carry swords and shields into battle, it wouldn't make much difference.
Even though Sherlock was skilled with the sword and knew Bartitsu, don't forget—they had to deal with a fifty-foot-tall dragon covered in scales and spikes, breathing fire from its nostrils!
This wasn't a Basilisk that would die upon hearing a rooster's crow.
No matter how Harry thought about it, he felt the organizers were playing a joke on them!
Lost in these thoughts, Sherlock suddenly stopped.
Harry was still immersed in his chaotic musings and nearly collided head-on with his friend who'd abruptly halted.
Before he could even voice a question, Sherlock's hand had already gripped his upper arm.
"Don't make a sound!"
Sherlock's voice was extremely low, but the warning within it immediately awakened Harry from his contemplation.
Harry immediately fell silent, every muscle in his body tensing.
Sherlock agilely pulled him sideways, smoothly and swiftly disappearing behind a dense, low cluster of juniper shrubs beside the path.
The unexpected turn of events made Harry's heart race wildly.
Like Sherlock, he crouched on the cold, muddy ground, holding his breath, and nervously peered through the gaps in the thorny branches toward the path.
The proactive Sherlock's gaze was even sharper, locked tightly on a spot about a dozen feet from where they'd just been standing.
In the shadow of some sparse trees stood a tall, burly figure.
The person had obviously also just come from deep within the Forbidden Forest, or perhaps had been following and observing along another path parallel to the main one.
Sherlock recognized the other person at a glance.
Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang.
Harry's reaction was slower than Sherlock's; only when he saw that goatee did he confirm the person's identity.
Karkaroff was now leaning forward slightly, nervously gazing toward the dragon enclosure.
His pale face with its goatee was particularly conspicuous in the moonlight.
He twisted his fingers restlessly from time to time, as if extremely uneasy about what he'd seen, or as if confirming something.
He's spying too!
Harry understood instantly.
Karkaroff had slipped down from his great ship to find out what the first task was.
In fact, he'd probably already seen Hagrid and Madame Maxime walking around the Forbidden Forest together in that direction.
After all, their targets were far too obvious—they could be seen from a great distance.
Now, Karkaroff only needed to follow the sounds to discover what awaited the champions, just as Madame Maxime had.
Harry couldn't help but feel a wave of relief.
Though his conversation with Sherlock on the path hadn't been loud, if the other person had been closer and alert enough...
Cold sweat instantly soaked his back.
Sherlock's grip on Harry's arm didn't relax.
The two remained like stone statues pressed against the bone-chilling shrubs, making no sound whatsoever.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Karkaroff didn't notice the two figures hidden in the dark corner; all his attention was focused on Hagrid and Madame Maxime.
After what felt like a century but was only a minute or two, Karkaroff finally withdrew his gaze.
He quickly and alertly looked left and right, then quickened his pace, beginning to move sideways toward where the dragons were, using the trees as cover.
Only after Karkaroff's figure completely disappeared, and after waiting a full half-minute to confirm there was no further movement around them, did Sherlock's tense body relax slightly, and his grip on Harry's arm loosened.
Harry also let out a long breath, feeling his heart still pounding uncontrollably.
He looked at Sherlock, who was still staring intently in the direction Karkaroff had disappeared.
"Karkaroff..."
Harry's voice was hoarse and low. "He's scouting for Krum..."
Sherlock slowly stood up, brushing off a few dead leaves and tiny thorns from his cloak, his movements returning to their usual composure, though the vigilance in his eyes hadn't completely dissipated.
"Obviously, although he doesn't have someone like Hagrid to help him, this headmaster still managed to find the right direction through his own efforts."
Sherlock's tone carried a hint of mockery. "Well now, before the competition officially begins, all the participants know what they'll be facing. What strict security measures indeed!"
Harry coughed somewhat awkwardly.
After all, the instigator of this affair was Hagrid.
After thinking for a moment, he said: "This is also good—at least everyone's back on the same starting line."
Sherlock laughed lightly. "Well said. Otherwise, if we win, it would really be somewhat lacking in honor!"
Having said this, he put away his smile and said: "Let's go. Now we need to figure out how to deal with those damned dragons."
Harry looked at his friend's calm and focused profile, taking a deep breath.
The cold sensation filled with the scent of earth and night dew washed over him.
He forcefully suppressed all his earlier emotional entanglements and nervous fears, quickened his pace, and caught up with Sherlock.
Sunday morning.
When Sherlock got up, he was surprised to find that Harry was already awake.
"Going to morning practice?"
Harry asked instinctively, then began getting dressed.
Sherlock looked at his friend twice, then suddenly spoke: "Do I need to remind you?"
"What?"
Harry looked at Sherlock in confusion.
Sherlock pointed with his hand.
Only then did Harry discover with surprise that he'd been trying to put his hat on his feet like socks.
"Uh..."
An emotion called embarrassment began to spread through the small dormitory.
Fortunately, Neville woke up at this moment, which relieved the awkwardness.
During their morning practice together, Harry thought it over and felt he should still fight for his good friend Hermione.
"Sherlock, about what happened last night—can we tell other people? I mean Ron and Hermione."
"Of course you can," Sherlock seemed somewhat surprised, and even made a cold joke: "Now there's no Dumbledore to stop us, so there's nothing we can't say."
Harry had wanted to ask another question, but on second thought, decided to quit while he was ahead.
When they finished their morning practice and went to the Great Hall for breakfast, they saw Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ginny.
Harry sat down, thinking about how he should tell Hermione about this matter.
After all, Sherlock had just said this could be shared.
He hadn't continued asking because he was afraid Sherlock might add "Don't mention Gemma yet."
Although the probability was low, it was still better to be cautious.
However, what he didn't expect was that just as he swallowed his last spoonful of porridge, Hermione said she had something to tell him, then pulled him out to the grounds outside.
Ron, watching this scene, was so shocked his eyes nearly popped out.
What was going on? This wasn't right, was it?
He instinctively looked toward Sherlock.
But Sherlock seemed to pay no attention to this scene. After finishing his meal, he left calmly and composedly.
Judging by the direction he was heading, it should be the library.
Ron had originally wanted to ask Sherlock and Harry what they'd actually gone to see Hagrid about yesterday, but this? He had no choice but to place his hopes on his little sister: "Ginny, what were you just talking about with Hermione?"
"Girl stuff—boys shouldn't ask!"
Ginny lifted her head and left like a proud swan.
Leaving only Ron speechless and choking.
"Every single one of them, what's going on?"
Although Harry didn't know what Hermione wanted to tell him, for him, her approach was like offering a pillow to someone who's drowsy—it came at just the right time.
So, he let Hermione pull him to the lakeside, then cleared his throat: "Hermione, I have something important to tell you."
"Harry, I have something important to tell you."
"..."
"..."
The two looked at each other, then laughed simultaneously.
The originally tense atmosphere also eased somewhat.
"You go first."
Harry decided to let Hermione speak first, after all, he was also very curious about why she'd so urgently pulled him out here.
"You must be about to tell me about last night when you went with Sherlock to see Hagrid, right?"
Hermione said astutely. "I'm also really curious, but wait until I finish speaking first!"
Harry nodded, silently thinking to himself that it wasn't just about going to see Hagrid.
You're definitely going to be shocked speechless.
As soon as this thought formed, he heard Hermione say: "Harry, have you ever thought about dating Ginny?"
Harry was instantly shocked speechless.
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