"He said 'the maze will settle it' it sounds almost like a declaration of war."
In the Gryffindor common room, Harry repeated the exchange word for word, his brow furrowed with a lingering unease.
"It is a declaration of war, and an admission of being behind," Sherlock said.
He was draped lazily across his chair, the ghost of an easy smile on his lips, grey eyes catching the firelight with an expression of quiet certainty.
"He knows that in pure strategy and preparation, Durmstrang is currently at a disadvantage. The unpredictable elements inside the maze are the only variable he has left to pin his hopes on."
"Speaking of the maze..." Hermione snapped her large book shut with a sharp crack.
She pushed aside both her irritation at Ron and the awkward flush that had risen at the mention of Krum, and directed her attention toward the more immediate problem in front of them.
"What Mr. Bagman and Mr. Moody described Hagrid's 'whole heap of creatures,' plus all the jinxes and traps..." She paused, and there was a thread of anxiety in her voice. "The range of possibilities is far too broad. We have no way of knowing what to prepare for."
"Right, and Hagrid's taste in creatures goes from Blast-Ended Skrewts all the way to Hippogriffs even Acromantulas. Just thinking about it is terrifying."
Ron gave an involuntary shudder, as though he could already see dozens of hairy spiders scuttling across the ground toward him. The image was enough to raise goosebumps from his wrist to his shoulder.
Hermione gave him a withering look.
"Acromantulas? Use your head those are XXXXX-classified creatures. He would never put something like that in a maze!"
"Maybe not but this is Hagrid we're talking about!" Ron retorted, spreading his hands. "Remember the Acromantula he raised from an egg? What was its name... A, Ar..."
He looked to Harry.
"Aragog," Harry supplied.
"Right, Aragog! He didn't just hatch the thing, he found it a mate! Remember what he told us the other day? He said, completely proudly, 'That dear creature has multiplied into quite a considerable family!' I stand by what I said before: Hagrid was wrongly expelled for what he did, but the fact that he was expelled at all is entirely fair."
The special loathing Ron harbored for spiders made him considerably more heated on this particular subject than usual.
Harry nodded emphatically. Entirely agreed.
Hagrid had always been that way a strange, inexplicable fondness for magical creatures that were massive, dangerous, and ferocious, in proportions no one else could comprehend.
He'd had that exact thought the moment Bagman mentioned Hagrid.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, found no satisfying rebuttal, and closed it again, pressing her lips together in silence.
"The organizers won't let him run wild with it."
She said it at last, quietly, in a tone that was more self-reassurance than conviction.
"That would certainly be nice," Ron said, rolling his eyes without much faith. "I just worry the organizers are in on it with him. Either way, I think the third task is going to be the hardest nobody knows what Hagrid's gone and put in there."
"And the jinxes and traps..." Harry frowned, cutting in. "Nobody knows what they're putting in those, either..."
"I thought you'd be more confident than this."
Sherlock's voice cut through at exactly the right moment, dissolving the heaviness in the air.
"Me?" Harry pointed at himself, eyes wide, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Confident?"
He had no idea why Sherlock would say that.
"My dear friend, have you already forgotten what happened in first year?"
The moment Sherlock said "first year," Harry's eyes lit up as though a curtain had been lifted.
"Sherlock, do you mean at the end of term... the obstacles..."
"Exactly. That whole sequence of enchantments protecting the Philosopher's Stone."
Sherlock was genuinely pleased that Harry had followed the line of thought.
"So we've already encountered this kind of thing many times, haven't we?"
Harry nodded vigorously.
Several professors had united to construct that gauntlet: Fluffy the three-headed dog, Devil's Snare, the flying keys, the enchanted chess set, the troll, the potion riddle, the Mirror of Erised...
From that perspective, yes, they really had been through it before.
"And that is precisely the point."
Sherlock's gaze moved slowly across Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
The people who had passed through those obstacles weren't only him and Harry.
"Even without knowing the specific obstacles ahead, we can anticipate the types of challenges and the principles for dealing with them. Hagrid's creatures, whatever they are, will largely follow instinct: aggression, territorial behavior, responses to specific stimuli. The jinx-traps will inevitably have trigger mechanisms and logical methods for breaking them. We have all already navigated a sequence of enchantments protecting the Stone, so I believe you understand exactly what I mean."
"I don't," Ron said, taking a deep breath. "Could you be a bit plainer about it?"
Sherlock smiled with unusual ease.
"What we actually need to do is quite simple. Not guessing which specific Skrewt or which particular hex we'll face, but training our ability to observe quickly, analyze, decide, and act under high pressure. When facing an unknown creature, rapidly identifying its weakness. When facing an unknown trap, calmly identifying its pattern. That is what wins."
Hermione's eyes lit up instantly.
Sherlock was like a key that had just opened a very heavy door.
She straightened her back in a single motion, every trace of anxiety swept away, her expression filling with something sharp and ready.
"You're right, Sherlock! Instead of guessing blindly, we raise our capacity to handle whatever comes. We need to systematically review the habits of various magical creatures and how to counter them, along with techniques for breaking common jinxes. I think you should all practice the Disarming Charm, the Stunning Spell, the Freezing Charm... even a few curses wouldn't go amiss..."
"And teamwork!" Harry added immediately, remembering how crucial their coordination had been in the first two tasks. "Inside the maze, the three of us have to stay in constant communication and cover each other."
"Exactly right."
Sherlock nodded, his voice steady.
"The maze divides the space, it cannot divide the understanding between people. Clear signals, timely support, accurate awareness of what your teammates are doing: all of that matters more than individual ability."
Ron scratched his head. Some of the cloud lifted from his face, replaced by a look of cautious relief.
"When you put it that way... it doesn't feel completely hopeless? Though the amount of training is going to be brutal."
Sherlock said nothing. He simply turned to look at Hermione.
Strangely, Hermione understood what he meant immediately she couldn't quite explain how.
"We're pressed for time," she said, already moving, already reaching into her bag for parchment and a quill. The tip touched the page and ink bloomed outward.
"There's only a month until the task. We should start building a detailed training plan right now, reviewing magical creature knowledge, practical spellwork, team simulation drills..."
She spoke rapidly as she wrote, the quill rasping across the parchment in the quiet room with a sound that seemed uncommonly clear.
Harry watched Hermione's focused profile, the candlelight casting faint shadows across her long lashes.
Then he looked at Sherlock — still draped in that same unhurried posture, still perfectly at ease.
But something in Sherlock's calm gaze made the restlessness Harry had been carrying the dread of the unknown maze slowly, quietly, dissolve.
Right. With Sherlock here. With Hermione's careful planning. With Cedric as a strong partner alongside them. Even if the path ahead was full of thorns and unseen dangers, it was not impassable.
The candlelight in the common room danced warmly, throwing four young shadows long across the floor, tangled together at their feet.
Outside the castle, the May night air still carried a trace of chill. It slipped through the gaps in the windows, stirring the edges of the tapestries, whispering through silent corridors and along the high towers.
In the direction of the Quidditch pitch, the hedges Hagrid had planted with his own hands rose in silence beneath the pale moonlight, spreading and growing, like one vast, quiet riddle waiting, without a sound, for the champions to come.
In the weeks that followed, Sherlock, Harry, and Cedric threw themselves into preparing for the third task with single-minded focus.
The Disarming Charm was manageable enough all three were already quite proficient. Harry in particular seemed to have an unusual natural talent for it; his speed and precision surpassed even Sherlock's and Cedric's.
"Harry, I have a question."
After being disarmed yet again in a practice duel, Cedric bent to retrieve his wand and looked over at Harry with a thoroughly puzzled expression.
"Why is it that every time you cast a spell, your wand movement is so... so..."
He searched for the right word, failed to find it, and gave up with a helpless wave of his hand.
"Complicated, somehow. Those elaborate, sweeping flourishes they're impressive, but don't they cost you time?"
"Are you trying to say flashy?" Cho Chang pressed her lips together to suppress a smile, finishing Cedric's sentence for him.
"Yes, exactly," Cedric agreed immediately, the confusion in his eyes deepening. "Flashy. Why is your form so flashy?"
"Lockhart taught me."
Harry said it with a completely straight face, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as though even he found the answer painful.
A burst of laughter rang out from Hermione, Gemma, and Cho at once, clear and bright in the Room of Requirement.
"I honestly don't know why," Harry sighed, spreading his hands. "Ever since he taught me this charm, I simply cannot cast it correctly unless I do exactly what he demonstrated."
That got even Sherlock and Cedric laughing, and the atmosphere in the Room of Requirement lifted all at once.
"That's genuinely..." Cedric paused to choose his words. "Memorable."
Could those theatrical flourishes actually improve success rate and casting speed? He stared at Harry, baffled. Why else would Harry have beaten him in their duel after doing all of that?
"It's a shame Professor Lockhart is still unconscious," Cedric said with a sigh, sounding genuinely regretful. "I'd love to ask him about this in person."
"Dumbledore mentioned he may wake up this year," Sherlock said mildly.
"Really? That's wonderful news!" Cedric's face lit up, and he meant every word.
He didn't know the full story of what had happened two years ago. The version he had received was the official corrected account: Lockhart was genuinely talented, but had briefly fallen under the influence of dark magic.
Beyond the Disarming Charm, Harry also needed to seriously work on the Stunning Spell, which he had never used before. Cedric was already quite comfortable with it; Sherlock had used it on at least one prior occasion.
That was also why their friends had all gathered in the Room of Requirement. Practicing the Stunning Spell required a certain measure of sacrifice from whoever served as the target.
"Sherlock, what if we went and kidnapped Madam Lollipops?" Ron said at last, sprawled flat on his back across the floor of the Room of Requirement after being knocked out and revived for the fifth time, his voice barely carrying.
"We could practice on her. Or Colin, Harry, I'd bet a Galleon that boy would do absolutely anything for you if you just asked. Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly.
He pushed himself up, bracing against the floor, grimacing and working out the stiffness in his back.
"But this really hurts. I ache all over."
"You keep missing the mat!" Hermione said impatiently, stacking the pile of cushions they had been using for the Shield Charm drills. "Fall backward, find where the mat is first!"
"You can't aim after you've been knocked unconscious, Hermione!" Ron shot back, irritated. "Why don't you try it yourself?"
"Gemma and I are working with Sherlock on defensive counter-jinxes."
Hermione pointed to where Sherlock and Gemma were practicing at the far end of the room.
"And besides..." She paused. "Cho manages to land on the mat every single time she faces Harry."
Cho Chang: (/ω＼)
"Well, of course she can..." Ron muttered under his breath, looking thoroughly put-upon. "She's not a boy."
You can read more than 40 chapters on:
patreon.com/MikeyMuse