When Sherlock and Harry entered the candlelit Great Hall, it was already nearly full.
Sherlock noticed the Goblet of Fire had been moved from its previous location. It now stood on the staff table in front of Dumbledore's empty chair.
Sherlock glanced at it. "This was just moved here recently, wasn't it?"
"Yes, just before I came up, Filch moved it here," Harry answered instinctively, then asked in surprise, "You can tell that too?"
"My dear Harry, it's precisely because Filch did this that I can tell. Otherwise, I would have to use that magical magnifying glass you gave me to examine the magical traces left behind."
Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Any object that's been moved leaves traces. As I've said before, a person's height can almost certainly be determined from their stride length. The calculation method is simple, though there's no point in teaching it to you step by step right now."
"Wait, didn't you say exactly that last time?"
"Precisely, which is why I'm saying it again this time." Sherlock patted Harry's shoulder. "Come on, Ron's already waving at us."
"Sherlock, how was your rest?" Hermione asked once they were seated.
"Reasonably satisfactory," Sherlock smiled slightly. "Though I can tell you must be starving."
"Me too!" Ron said with clear displeasure. "Next time, nothing will make me eat at Hagrid's place again."
Don't think that just because Ron eats a lot, he'll eat anything. Faced with Hagrid's catastrophic cooking skills, even Ron couldn't withstand it—though whether Harry's cousin Dudley could handle it remained to be seen.
The Halloween Eve feast lasted much longer than usual, mainly because of the two visiting schools. After two consecutive days of banquets, everyone was less enthusiastic about the carefully prepared lavish dishes than usual.
People throughout the hall kept craning their necks, every face showing anxious expressions. Everyone was restless, frequently standing up to see if Dumbledore had finished eating. Even Harry and Hermione, who hadn't eaten properly at lunch, felt the same way. They both wished they could quickly finish what was on their plates and find out who had been chosen as champions. Only Ron single-mindedly attacked his dinner as if making up for the lunch he'd missed.
Hermione gently nudged Sherlock. "You don't seem nervous at all?"
"Give me a reason to be nervous?"
"Well... you never seem nervous about anything?"
"No, no, no. I'm always very nervous when a mystery is about to be revealed."
"Oh, that's the kind of nervous you mean..."
"What else would it be?"
Strangely enough, Hermione, who had been somewhat nervous, relaxed after chatting with Sherlock for a few moments, and her appetite improved as well. Harry, watching this, showed a look of understanding and ate a few more bites himself.
Finally, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state. At that moment, the noise level in the hall suddenly increased. The next moment, Dumbledore stood up. With that action, the hall fell silent again.
Dumbledore was still able to maintain a calm expression. However, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on either side of him looked just as tense as everyone else, their eyes full of expectation.
Ludo Bagman from the Ministry of Magic maintained his consistently pleasant manner, smiling broadly and winking at students from all the schools.
As for Mad-Eye Moody... well, no one was looking at his expression. Anyone who made eye contact with his magical eye for more than three seconds would definitely look away.
Only when Sherlock met his gaze did he not immediately avert his eyes. From the look in Moody's real eye as it turned toward him, Sherlock could tell he recognized him. This was normal after all, they had already met during the interrogation of Peter Pettigrew.
However, Sherlock didn't actually know much about this most renowned Auror in history. As for whether he had become paranoid in retirement, mistaking ordinary people for Death Eaters, Sherlock wouldn't make judgments without evidence.
"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate it will take at most one more minute." Dumbledore surveyed his surroundings, speaking slowly and knowingly under everyone's gaze. "Listen, when a champion's name is announced, I want them to walk to the top of the hall, then go along the staff table and into the next room—"
He pointed to the door behind the staff table. "They will receive preliminary instructions there."
Having said this, he drew his wand and waved it dramatically. All the candles except those inside the jack-o'-lanterns extinguished. The hall suddenly plunged into a state of semi-darkness.
In this lighting, the Goblet of Fire's dazzling glow was brighter than anything else in the hall. The blue-white flames shooting sparks could almost be called blinding. Everyone watched intently, waiting... Some kept checking their watches repeatedly.
Hermione gripped Sherlock's hand tightly. "Soon... very soon... it's almost time..."
Sherlock: "?"
Just then, the flames in the Goblet suddenly turned red, crackling and spitting sparks. Quick as lightning, a tongue of flame shot into the air, and from it flew a piece of charred parchment.
Everyone held their breath at the sight. Dumbledore caught the parchment with composure, then held it at arm's length to read the words by the light of the flames. Once the parchment flew out, the flames returned to blue-white.
"The first champion from Durmstrang, and the captain..." Dumbledore announced in a clear, powerful voice, "is Viktor Krum."
"Not surprising at all!" Ron shouted as applause and cheers swept through the entire hall.
"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff roared like a bell. Though the applause in the hall was loud, everyone could still hear his voice. "I knew you were destined to be a champion!"
Viktor Krum stood up from the Slytherin table and walked toward Dumbledore.
"He looks rather listless," Harry whispered to Sherlock.
Sherlock smiled and nodded. "Just like you—the troubles of being famous."
Harry froze for a moment, then understood.
When he had first entered Hogwarts, he too had to endure the intense scrutiny of onlookers daily. Krum received even more of such treatment.
Besides Durmstrang's own students, many from both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons had rushed to get his autograph or even photos with him. Such experiences naturally left Krum unable to be energetic. Now that he'd been selected as a Triwizard champion, this situation would only get worse.
He maintained that listless appearance as he turned right, walked along the staff table, and entered the room through that door.
Just seconds later, the flames turned red again. A second piece of parchment shot out of the cup, propelled by the flames.
"The second champion from Durmstrang, Toby Thorsen!"
As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, a rather small-looking boy jumped up from the Slytherin table. His face showed incredulous joy and excitement, he even stuttered in his excitement: "Is... is it me?! Really me?"
His lack of confidence made everyone laugh.
Sherlock's gaze swept over him, finding that this boy hadn't left much impression on him. However, he did have some recollection of the boy standing beside him.
Last night, that boy had actively asked Professor Karkaroff if he could have some wine, only to be scolded by Karkaroff, who also mentioned that he'd dripped food on the front of his robes again, calling him a "troublesome boy."
Now that scolded boy also opened his mouth wide in surprise, but then vigorously patted Toby Thorsen's back and said loudly, "Well done, Toby! You haven't let us down!"
His loud voice drew the attention of those nearby. Karkaroff's expression was spectacular.
The way he looked at Toby was completely different from how he'd looked at Krum moments ago. It wasn't the gratification of seeing an excellent student, but rather a complex emotion mixing disbelief with a trace of distaste. Clearly, he was dissatisfied that Toby Thorsen had been selected as a champion.
In the end, he only nodded stiffly, not even bothering to offer a perfunctory word of congratulation. Toby Thorsen, extremely excited and oblivious to his headmaster's attitude, practically bounced his way over.
Shortly after Toby entered the room, the blue flames turned red for the third time, and charred parchment flew toward Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked at the name and announced expressionlessly, "The final champion from Durmstrang, Lucas Polyakov."
"Pfft—cough, cough, cough!"
Having just seen off Toby Thorsen from beside him, Polyakov heard his own name called. He pointed at his own nose, his face full of bewilderment and the dizziness brought by tremendous surprise: "Me? Lucas Polyakov? Is it me?"
He looked down at the soup stains on his front, blinking hard as if confirming whether these grease stains had brought him some mysterious good luck.
Headmaster Karkaroff's face turned completely dark. If seeing Toby had merely surprised and disgusted him, seeing Polyakov's name made the corner of his mouth twitch uncontrollably, his expression was so grim it could almost drip water. His fatherly expression was probably reserved only for Krum.
He didn't look at Polyakov but instead cast a sinister gaze at the Goblet of Fire, as if questioning the fairness of this ancient magical object. He had brought so many excellent students, why would the Goblet choose two wizards from fallen families?
However, at this point, Polyakov no longer cared about the headmaster's attitude. He let out a short cheer though to others it sounded more like a strange yelp then vigorously hugged each person who congratulated him, accidentally knocking a quill from someone's pocket in the process.
Next, he strode forward with an almost giddy, casual manner toward the staff table. Along the way, he accidentally bumped a chair at the Hufflepuff table askew, earning a disgruntled glare from a nearby Hufflepuff.
After all three Durmstrang champions had been announced, the applause and conversation gradually subsided. The Goblet's light stabilized as if gathering strength, then surged again. Now everyone's attention focused once more on the Goblet, wondering whether the next champion selected would be from Beauxbatons or Hogwarts.
This wait was slightly longer than the last. When the Goblet delivered the charred parchment to Dumbledore's hand, he read crisply, "The champion and captain from Beauxbatons—is Fleur Delacour!"
The girl who resembled a Veela stood up gracefully, tossed her silvery hair, and walked lightly between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. At this moment, nearly every boy in the hall stared at her without blinking. Some were even more entranced than Ron had been the previous evening.
Veela blood—terrifyingly powerful!
"It's her, Sherlock!" Harry exclaimed excitedly. Ever since learning that this girl knew Sherlock, Harry had been speculating about what relationship they might have. Seeing her selected as Beauxbatons' champion, he instinctively called out.
Hermione's grip on Sherlock's hand also tightened.
After Fleur left, the flames softened but remained red, soon producing the next name.
"The second champion from Beauxbatons—Phily Raven!"
A quiet, somewhat slender girl stood up with confusion and a trace of timidity. She looked uncertainly toward Madame Maxime. Compared to Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime treated her other students much better. When she saw Phily Raven looking her way, she nodded affirmatively.
Phily took a deep breath, tried to straighten her back, and walked toward the door.
After her, the flames blazed for Beauxbatons one last time.
"The final champion from Beauxbatons—Roy Lefan!"
This time, a rather composed-looking boy stood up. He was solidly built with neatly groomed brown hair, his face showing both determination and obvious delight. He took a deep breath, nodded to Dumbledore, bowed to Madame Maxime, then walked steadily toward the door without looking aside.
With all three Beauxbatons champions selected, the two girls who hadn't been chosen buried their faces in their arms and wept bitterly. As Roy Lefan passed the two girls, he merely glanced at them expressionlessly before looking away.
After the three Beauxbatons champions also entered the adjacent room, the hall fell quiet again. This silence surged with such intense excitement you could almost taste it. Next would come the hosts of this Triwizard Tournament—Hogwarts' champions.
You can read more than 40 chapters on:
patreon.com/MikeyMuse
_________________________________________________________
CHECK OUT MY NEW NOVEL IN MY PROFILE.