The Hogwarts Christmas Ball felt like a beautiful dream from which many were reluctant to wake. They all secretly hoped that time could slow down, just a little more.
Harry was among them.
Whether it was twirling gently with Cho Chang to the waltz in the dance hall, or stepping alongside Ginny to the rhythm of a slow dance, both moments were like honey-coated candy, sweet enough to warm his heart.
He even had a vague premonition that in the future, when facing the cold despair of Dementors, he could simply close his eyes and recall the laughter and warmth of these four hours tonight.
Unfortunately, some things—no, most things—do not bend to human will.
When the ancient clock hanging on the Great Hall wall showed its hour and minute hands overlapping heavily at twelve, midnight arrived as scheduled.
The Weird Sisters finally ceased their performance.
When the last note dissipated into the air, the hall erupted in the most enthusiastic applause.
Everyone's applause was filled with reluctance, and then the crowd slowly shuffled toward the entrance hall, gradually receding like the tide.
"Thank you, Sherlock, I had a wonderful time today!"
In the entrance hall, Luna was preparing to return to Ravenclaw Tower with Cho Chang.
She turned around and waved vigorously at Sherlock, her eyes still sparkling with the light left by the ball.
"I think you should be thanking me instead."
Ron suddenly leaned over with a half-joking tone.
His voice carried a hint of credit-seeking: "After all, it was because of my invitation that you could attend the Christmas Ball. Sherlock didn't invite you to dance."
When Harry heard Ron say this, his heart sank.
He understood Ron, and he understood Luna.
Nothing good could come from such words.
Sure enough, Luna's already somewhat protruding eyes instantly widened, her tone bluntly unsparing: "But you couldn't keep up with me at all! Not even a little bit with my rhythm."
Sherlock nodded, thoughtfully adding, "Actually, it wasn't too bad. At least you didn't step on her feet like Neville did to Ginny."
Ron: "..."
I'm such a fool, really.
I already knew she was the same type as Sherlock, so why did I say that?
Apart from this small incident, everyone was thoroughly satisfied with tonight's ball.
Ron was the same. Although he had been snubbed by Luna at first, his time afterward with Lavender had gone quite well.
The others need not even be mentioned.
They all wished the ball could have been extended a bit longer.
But for Sherlock, the ball itself wasn't important.
What truly mattered to him was the information Gemma had told him earlier in the garden.
About Snape and Karkaroff's secret conversation, about Hagrid and Madame Maxime's dispute.
Gemma really understood him—this information hit exactly his points of interest.
He thought to himself that it seemed necessary to have a good talk with Professor Snape.
After saying goodbye to Gemma, Cho Chang, Luna, and the others in the entrance hall, Sherlock, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked together toward Gryffindor Tower.
In front of the portrait hole, the Fat Lady and her friend Violet were sprawled in their frame, fast asleep.
"Fairy lights!"
The young lions had no choice but to lean close to the frame and shout the password loudly to wake the two portraits from their slumber.
However, they were quite annoyed at being awakened.
"This is your job," Sherlock stepped forward, his tone seemingly calm but carrying an undeniable force. "Guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, opening the door for qualified students—you have no right to lose your temper here."
The Fat Lady and Violet had been about to retort, but upon seeing that the speaker was Sherlock Holmes, they immediately fell silent, their earlier fire doused as if by a bucket of cold water.
The Fat Lady immediately swung open the portrait without another word, revealing the hole leading to the common room.
"Sherlock, you're absolutely amazing!"
The young lions climbed into the common room and gathered around, looking at Sherlock with eyes full of admiration.
"Even the portraits are afraid of you!"
"Yeah, yeah, worthy of being our Lion King, well done!"
"With Sherlock and Harry, we're definitely going to win this Triwizard Tournament!"
Just moments ago at the ball, everyone had been immersed in excitement, wishing time could linger a while longer.
But once the ball ended, drowsiness came rushing in like a rising tide, their eyelids heavy as lead.
The boys and girls hastily said goodbye in the center of the common room, many faces still bearing the lingering flush of reluctance.
Anyone with eyes could see that in just one evening, Hogwarts would have quite a few more secretly hand-holding couples.
Hermione deliberately stayed until the very end.
She walked up to Sherlock and first said softly, "Um... Sherlock, thank you."
Then, taking advantage of Sherlock's inattention, she quickly stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed his cheek.
Having done this, she turned as red as if she'd been scalded.
Then she turned and ran into the girls' dormitory in a flash, not daring to look back.
Sherlock was momentarily stunned, looking somewhat puzzled at Hermione's disappearing figure, reaching up to touch the cheek that had been kissed.
He really couldn't understand why she ran.
"It's not like it's the first time..."
He shook his head helplessly, then turned to leave.
For him, the four hours of the Christmas Ball had been somewhat of a waste of time.
Tonight, he needed to make up for that lost time.
The morning after Christmas Day, the entire Hogwarts was shrouded in a lazy atmosphere, with everyone sleeping in unusually late.
Gryffindor Tower was naturally no exception. Even Sherlock, who usually led Harry and Neville in boxing and fencing without fail, had uncharacteristically skipped it.
After breakfast, the group returned to the common room.
It was much quieter here than it had been in recent days, with only a scattered few people sitting on the sofas, chatting desultorily.
Their conversations were frequently interrupted by yawns, and even the flames in the fireplace seemed lazy, flickering exceptionally slowly.
Hermione sat on the sofa, her hair returned to its usual bushy state, like an explosion of dandelion fluff.
With her three close friends, she was naturally frank, explaining that yesterday, to attend the ball, she had sprayed her hair with copious amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.
This was the main reason she had taken so long.
"But doing that every day would be too much trouble. It's better to be comfortable like this," she said pragmatically, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears.
The cat contentedly narrowed its eyes, purring softly in its throat, its tail lightly brushing her wrist.
"Don't all girls do that?" Ron was somewhat puzzled. After all, his only sister Ginny spent plenty of time on makeup every day.
Harry nodded as well, remembering how Hermione had looked last night in her pale blue dress with her hair flowing smoothly over her shoulders, and said sincerely, "You did look very nice yesterday, very different."
Hermione didn't respond to Ron and Harry's words, but instead looked up at Sherlock.
Clearly, in her heart, only Sherlock's opinion was worth caring about.
But to her disappointment, Sherlock was looking down at a book titled Forgotten Ancient Spells and Charms, completely oblivious to her gaze, much less joining in the discussion about whether her hair looked good.
She couldn't help but shake her head with a smile, thinking to herself that this was Sherlock, after all—not paying attention to such things was normal for him.
Since the hair topic was going nowhere, Hermione simply recounted everything Gemma had told her yesterday to Harry and Ron.
This included Snape and Karkaroff's secret conversation in the garden, as well as Hagrid and Madame Maxime's dispute about mixed giant heritage.
Since Sherlock had already deduced Hagrid's identity from details, and Hagrid had later confirmed it himself, Harry and Ron weren't too surprised after hearing this.
Both unanimously agreed that being part-giant was no big deal.
Hermione went further, directly pointing out that the magical world's current attitude toward giants was just like its attitude toward werewolves—pure prejudice.
"When the majority of a group exhibits consistency, individuals within it are inevitably implicated," Sherlock said, putting down his book with a quiet voice.
"Once a fixed impression is formed, changing it becomes extremely difficult. This kind of preconceived behavior is commonly known as 'labeling.' For those who truly seek the truth, it's obviously inappropriate.
But for the vast majority of people in this world, it has become a time-saving and labor-saving habit. For instance, people say Americans emphasize liberalism, the French worship romance, Germans are rigorous and efficient, Chinese people all know kung fu... These labels might capture some characteristics, but they ignore individual differences."
"What about British people?" Harry was very interested in this topic and couldn't help but ask, his eyes full of curiosity.
Sherlock raised his eyelids slightly, uttering two words in a flat tone: "Terrible food."
Harry: "..."
Ron: "..."
Hermione: "..."
Sherlock's single sentence nearly left all three speechless.
Though they wanted to refute it, thinking it over, it seemed quite accurate.
Especially Harry, who remembered Cho Chang and Fleur complaining more than once about British cuisine.
After a brief silence, Hermione was the first to change the subject, her tone carrying some regret: "It looks like Hagrid and Madame Maxime won't end up together. What a shame."
Apart from Sherlock, both Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.
After all, Hagrid was a good person, and everyone hoped he could find happiness.
After all... Hagrid was a good person.
"There's one more thing," Hermione said, changing tack and looking at the three of them, her tone becoming serious.
"During the first week of vacation, everyone just played around. Now that the Christmas Ball is over, it's time to think about homework. The Transfiguration essay, the Potions formula analysis, and the History of Magic report are all waiting for us."
This time, no one contradicted Hermione.
After all, homework was unavoidable.
If they kept procrastinating, they'd be scrambling after term started.
The excitement of the Christmas Ball was like a brief firework display. After it ended, everyone's mood gradually settled down.
Now it really was time to refocus and return to a normal rhythm.
"Harry, what's wrong?"
Just then, Hermione noticed Harry frowning with a somewhat vacant expression and couldn't help but ask.
"I'm thinking about the Triwizard Tournament," Harry said with some worry. "Now that Christmas is over, February twenty-fourth suddenly seems much closer. But we still don't know what the second task is, and we haven't solved the golden egg's secret..."
"Hey, I thought it was something serious!" Ron waved his hand dismissively, patting Harry's shoulder. "With Sherlock here, what are you worried about! He's probably already solved the golden egg's secret! Right, old Sherlock?"
"Yes," Sherlock nodded, saying calmly.
"See, I told you..." Ron's words stopped halfway as he suddenly realized what he'd heard, looking at Sherlock in surprise. "What? You really solved it?"
Harry and Hermione likewise looked at Sherlock with disbelief.
They were still on Christmas holiday!
They'd only had the golden egg for just over two weeks, and there were still two whole months until February twenty-fourth, yet Sherlock had already solved the secret?
Ron, being the most impatient, immediately moved closer to Sherlock, pressing, "What secret is hidden in the golden egg? Tell us quickly!"
"Yeah, Sherlock, tell us!" Harry immediately chimed in, his anxiety instantly replaced by curiosity as he unconsciously leaned forward.
Hermione looked at Sherlock seriously. "Sherlock, what do we need to prepare for the second task?"
"This is precisely what I wanted to tell you, my dear friends—" Sherlock smiled slightly, his gaze sweeping over the three of them. "We need to find a method that allows us to breathe underwater for an extended period, and preferably one that supports strenuous activity underwater."
Harry, Hermione, and Ron instantly looked at each other, their eyes full of confusion.
Underwater breathing? And strenuous activity?
This was the second task of the Triwizard Tournament?
It sounded rather ominous!
"A way to breathe underwater?" Harry repeated Sherlock's words with a frown, still not understanding.
"And maintain strenuous activity? Is the second task a swimming competition in the water?" Ron scratched his head, looking bewildered.
"Sherlock, you should explain more clearly," Hermione finally lost her patience and spoke up. "We want to know how you did it, what the golden egg's secret actually is."
Hearing this, Sherlock couldn't help but laugh heartily.
His clear laughter was particularly loud in the quiet common room, drawing everyone's attention.
"It's actually quite simple. Last night after returning to the dormitory, I went out to take another bath," Sherlock explained with a smile.
"Took a bath?"
Harry, Hermione, and Ron said in unison, their confusion deepening.
Taking a bath solved the golden egg's secret?
What kind of logic was that?
Let water into your brain to generate inspiration?
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