After Fleur drew the Swedish Short-Snout, Mr. Bagman passed the purple silk pouch to Krum while saying to Cedric, "Guests first, you don't mind, do you?"
Cedric shook his head.
Sherlock immediately felt that Mr. Bagman was being somewhat long-winded. Couldn't he hurry things along?
As it turned out, Krum's luck, though not as good as Fleur's, was still decent. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball, with the number two around its neck. He didn't even blink before sitting down heavily, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Sherlock observed the champions from both schools carefully, which further confirmed his deductions.
Whether it was Madame Maxime or Mr. Karkaroff, they had undoubtedly informed their students what challenges they would face in the first task. The only difference was that Madame Maxime had told all three of her champions directly, while Mr. Karkaroff had only told Krum alone.
Although Krum lacked communication with his companions, he still shared this crucial information with them.
While Sherlock was habitually observing and deducing, Cedric and Harry's faces had already turned deathly pale. Without doubt, the Hungarian Horntail with the highest difficulty rating was left for them.
Harry and Cedric exchanged glances, both seeing the despair in each other's eyes. Damn it, their luck really couldn't be worse!
The two then looked toward Sherlock, only to see him still wearing that calm and composed expression, and they immediately understood.
Right, right—technically they weren't supposed to know about the three dragon species yet. They had almost failed to keep their composure.
Cedric immediately feigned calmness and stepped forward to receive the purple silk pouch from Mr. Bagman. As expected, he pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, bearing number one.
Not only was it the most dangerous dragon, but he was also scheduled to go first. Anyone who had taken exams regularly knew that the person going first bore the greatest pressure.
For the participants, there was no reference point ahead of them. For the judges, lacking comparison when scoring, they would often play it safe and mark conservatively. It was truly double misfortune.
At that moment, the champions from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang secretly breathed sighs of relief.
"Well, you've all got yours!" Bagman surveyed the group, then spoke. "You've each drawn the dragon you'll face, and the numbers around their necks indicate the order in which you'll contend with them, understood? Now I must leave you briefly, as I need to provide commentary for the audience. Cedric, you, Harry, and Sherlock are first. Once you hear the whistle, proceed into the enclosure, understood?"
After seeing Cedric nod, Bagman added, "So then... Harry... may I have a word with you? Outside?"
Everyone looked at Bagman in surprise, not understanding what he still needed to tell Harry when the competition was about to begin.
Harry instinctively looked toward Sherlock. Only after seeing Sherlock give him a slight nod did he follow Mr. Bagman out of the tent.
As soon as Harry left, Cedric immediately moved closer to Sherlock, lowering his voice to ask, "Sherlock, what does Mr. Bagman want with Harry?"
Sherlock looked at him with a half-smiling expression. "Cedric, do you really think I can predict the future and know everything?"
Cedric had a sudden realization. He had fallen into fixed thinking. The great detective Sherlock Holmes, Detective Sherlock—although bearing such nicknames, Sherlock wasn't omnipotent. Just like with Ludo Bagman, Sherlock wasn't familiar with him and had no way to deduce the man's thoughts.
"Sherlock, I—"
"I actually do know what he's taking Harry out for."
Cedric: (ー`ー)
At that moment, Cedric finally understood why Sherlock had so few friends at school.
"If my deduction is correct, he probably wants to offer Harry some help."
"How is that possible?" Cedric nearly cried out.
Ludo Bagman was one of the judges. How could he do such a thing?
As if seeing through Cedric's thoughts, Sherlock smiled slightly. "Judges are human too, and humans have selfish motives. Moreover..." Sherlock said in a meaningful tone, "His selfish motives are quite substantial."
Cedric was even more puzzled and was about to ask more when a whistle sounded from somewhere.
Cedric froze, and Moody had already spoken.
"Hogwarts—you're up. Both of you, follow me!" he said gruffly, then swung his wooden leg and limped toward the tent exit.
Cedric immediately fell silent and obediently followed Moody with Sherlock. The three walked out of the tent one in front and two behind, just in time to see Mr. Bagman's retreating figure running away and Harry standing in place looking utterly bewildered.
"Harry, quickly!" Cedric called out.
Harry seemed to snap out of his daze, hurrying over to stand beside Sherlock.
Moody looked deeply at Harry but said nothing. He simply led them forward in silence.
"Are you all right, Harry?" Cedric asked quietly.
"I'm fine, really," Harry replied, then turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, Mr. Bagman, he—"
"Save it for after the competition," Sherlock interrupted directly. "Your expression has already told me everything."
Harry nodded.
Next, Moody led the Hogwarts trio through the tent entrance to the outside. During this process, the tension in Harry and Cedric's hearts intensified bit by bit, reaching an unprecedented degree. Cedric gripped his wand tightly, trembling from head to toe.
At that moment, Harry felt an unprecedented sense of kinship with Cedric. Though Sherlock was his best friend, his unruffled demeanor made it hard to feel that sense of connection. But there was an upside—every time Harry saw Sherlock's composed appearance, he found that his legs were no longer made of jelly.
Finally, Moody led them past the bushes, through a gap in the enclosure fence, and arrived at their destination. In an instant, hundreds upon hundreds of faces appeared on the stands above the three of them.
Last Saturday night, when Sherlock and Harry came to see the dragons, there had been no stands here. But in the magical world, building a stand in three days was no problem at all.
At the far end of the enclosure was the Hungarian Horntail that Charlie had called "nothing but trouble if you meet one." It was an immensely huge, scale-covered lizard-like reptile. It thrashed its spiked tail violently, leaving deep gouges several meters long in the hard ground.
Sherlock's gaze swept across, noting that the Hungarian Horntail was guarding its nest of eggs, its wings half-folded. Though it crouched low, its enormous body still gave the impression of towering height.
Seeing Moody approach with the three of them, the Hungarian Horntail's vicious yellow eyes immediately locked onto all three of them.
"Here we are," Moody stopped and looked at the three. "Remember, if you find things going badly, abandon the task rather than push through stubbornly."
Hearing Moody's somewhat stiff advice, Harry showed a surprised expression. He hadn't expected the man to care about them so much.
After saying this, Moody departed with his wooden leg going "thump thump thump," heading toward the judges' seats.
Sherlock followed his gaze and saw that Dumbledore, Mr. Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime were already seated. Only Bagman and Moody had yet to take their places on the judging panel.
The audience stands were already buzzing with noise. Clearly, when they saw the three from Hogwarts enter, they understood that the thrilling competition was about to begin.
Since this was Hogwarts' home ground, the three naturally received unanimous support from the entire school faculty and students. This time, even Slytherin, who usually opposed Gryffindor, was cheering for the three of them.
Sherlock glanced toward the Hungarian Horntail. The golden egg was right in the center of that pile of dragon eggs—getting it wouldn't be easy.
"Looks like our luck is good. Things are developing almost exactly as we imagined, so let's proceed as we discussed."
"Right." Cedric took a deep breath. "Sherlock, Harry, we must win!"
Harry nodded emphatically.
At that moment, he had completely forgotten what Moody had just said.
"So... shall we begin?" Cedric looked at Sherlock nervously, asking for confirmation.
Sherlock nodded and drew his wand. "Let's begin!"
All three simultaneously recited the Summoning Charm.
"Accio Firebolt!"
Harry shouted especially loudly. He was the only one among the three who lacked confidence in performing the spell successfully. He firmly remembered Sherlock and Cedric's guidance—clear his mind, concentrate completely and absolutely, imagining the Firebolt. Only by obtaining the Firebolt would he have a chance to keep up with Sherlock's pace.
Soon, there was movement on the field. The powerful sound of rushing air came as three broomsticks whistled through the air, flying swiftly toward them.
The Firebolt led the way, sweeping around the edge of the Forbidden Forest and flying into the enclosure first. When it stopped sharply in midair beside Harry, waiting for him to mount, Sherlock's Nimbus 2002 Super followed close behind.
By the time the Nimbus 2002 Super also stopped beside Sherlock, Cedric's Cleansweep Seven arrived belatedly.
The stands immediately erupted in wild cheering. When Sherlock, Harry, and Cedric simultaneously swung their legs over their respective broomsticks and rose into the air, Bagman's voice, providing commentary, drowned out all the audience's calls:
"Oh my word, they can fly!"
You can read more than 40 chapters on:
patreon.com/MikeyMuse