In an empty classroom at Hogwarts Castle, Sherlock, Hermione, and Fleur were in secret discussion.
Hearing Fleur finally willing to admit her true intentions, Hermione couldn't help opening her mouth slightly in surprise. Sherlock, however, smiled mockingly.
"As expected, this is exactly the sort of thing he would do. So, he's paying you for this, correct?"
"Yes."
"So now you're telling me this because you want me to cooperate with you, and then split the payment with me?"
"Huh?"
"Too bad—it seems you don't currently have that idea."
"Uh..."
"So that means the payment he gave you wasn't for Beauxbatons to win the Triwizard Tournament championship?"
"No. He told me at our first meeting that as long as you're willing, Hogwarts winning the championship would be a foregone conclusion."
"Heh, my brother certainly has confidence in me. But it seems you didn't believe that."
"I didn't believe it before, but now I'm absolutely convinced."
"You've awakened to this rather late."
"You're right. I should have realized earlier—you two brothers are equally clever. How could the Triwizard Tournament possibly stump you?"
"No, purely in terms of the art of observation and deduction, my dear brother has mastered it to a higher degree than I have."
"Perhaps—"
Fleur let out a long sigh, thinking to herself that there was no need for the two brothers to keep comparing themselves. She looked at Sherlock again, asking with a try-anything attitude.
"Actually... we met when you were little. Do you remember?"
"I don't," Sherlock said straightforwardly. "Though as I've said before, based on known facts, I can also deduce this point."
"I can tell you!"
Fleur said quickly.
"When you were four and the other Mr. Holmes was eleven, your whole family traveled to France. Two years later, you returned to England—it was during that time that our two families met. But I was only seven years old that year..."
As she spoke, a reminiscent expression appeared on Fleur's face.
"That year, my magic went out of control. Through a chance coincidence, you two brothers saved me. My parents were very grateful for this, and from then on our two families knew each other. But at that time, you didn't know about the existence of magic..."
Hearing this, Sherlock frowned slightly. He truly had no memory of this matter at all. Of course, Mycroft had never mentioned it either.
"Just last year, when the Triwizard Tournament was confirmed to restart and be hosted by Britain, Mr. Holmes had someone find me and made this request. I don't understand how he managed to do this after nearly ten years had passed."
"For him, it couldn't be simpler—but speaking of which, I'm rather interested in what payment he actually gave you."
Fleur. "..."
"Oh, I see—it wasn't given to you, but to your family."
Seeing Fleur remain silent, Sherlock immediately snapped his fingers. "He offered payment that your family had no way to refuse."
The expression on Fleur's face instantly froze, then transformed into a mix of shock and disbelief bordering on horror. She looked up sharply, staring fixedly at Sherlock. She hadn't said anything at all! The content of the Delacour family's deal with Mycroft was absolutely confidential!
She took a deep breath, trying to calm in her heart.
"You... how could you possibly..."
Fleur's voice carried a barely detectable tremor, even her breathing becoming slightly rapid.
"This is almost the only reasonable explanation, Miss Delacour."
Sherlock smiled faintly.
"As a member of an ancient and proud magical family, for you to be manipulated by Mycroft and act as his informant, personal gratitude or ordinary monetary interests cannot fully explain it—especially given how brief your contact was. What drives you must be interests that the entire Delacour family cannot resist.
I imagine your family is deeply mired in some kind of predicament. The nature of this predicament is that it's cleverly caught in the gap between the magical world and the Muggle world. It might be that a key industry your family relies on for survival or wealth accumulation in the Muggle world has encountered fatal blockage or suppression from Muggle legal or bureaucratic systems.
Or it could be some ancient prohibition or resource restriction from the Ministry of Magic targeting your family. The key to lifting it unexpectedly involves some crucial element or evidence controlled by the Muggle government. And the key to solving all this happens to be held by Mycroft, who can mobilize the power of Britain's entire state machinery."
"You're practically using Legilimency on me..."
Fleur murmured.
At this moment, she finally abandoned the last trace of doubt about Sherlock's abilities. Looking at the Sherlock before her, this figure gradually overlapped with the image from ten years ago—a five-year-old who could already use a magnifying glass to observe scorched grass after a magical outburst.
"Yes, you're right."
Fleur let out a long sigh, as if resigned to fate.
"Your brother... Mr. Mycroft Holmes offered conditions that our family—or rather, my parents—simply could not refuse."
Hermione, hearing this, couldn't help holding her breath. Sherlock's precise deductions certainly captivated her, but for someone who knew Sherlock very well, that was actually secondary.
More importantly, Mycroft could, as a Muggle, make an offer that the Delacour family—foreign wizards—could not refuse. What kind of power was this?
In the case involving Sirius and Peter, she had actually already witnessed Mycroft's formidability. In her view, influencing the Ministry of Magic through the Muggle government was already quite remarkable.
Before that, she had never even considered such a possibility. But she never imagined that even so, she had still underestimated how formidable Sherlock's older brother was. He could even influence a neighboring country! And the magical world of that neighboring country, no less!
Thinking of this, she unconsciously moved closer to Sherlock, as if this could provide some sense of security.
"Mycroft Holmes."
Speaking his brother's full name, the corner of Sherlock's mouth lifted in a somewhat sarcastic arc.
"My dear brother's work—oh, perhaps it should be called his talent or duty is to remember and master all the detailed affairs of the British government. He himself is the living archive of the British government, the most core central nervous system of that enormous bureaucratic machine. Every decision's trajectory, every transaction's cards, even those gray areas that remain unspoken—all are imprinted in his mind. In short..."
Sherlock paused, his gray eyes appearing particularly profound in the light.
"He is Britain."
"Yes... I deeply understand this."
The helplessness on Fleur's face became even more apparent.
"Before this, I never imagined that a Muggle could control such terrifying... in this way..."
"Power?" Hermione cautiously interjected from the side.
"This is perfectly natural."
Sherlock affirmed.
"He may not understand magic, but he's deeply versed in the game of power. He's skilled at using the Muggle world's vast resources and influence to leverage any fulcrum he desires, including certain joints in the magical world. So, my dear brother doesn't need to foolishly wave a wand like we do.
He only needs to, at the appropriate time, extract from his vast memory palace information that can precisely strike an opponent's vital point. Or mobilize forces in the Muggle world significant enough that even the Ministry of Magic must take seriously.
If my deduction is correct, he must have demonstrated to your family that he possesses this power and has the ability to instantly apply this power to your family."
Sherlock's expression showed no change whatsoever, as if Fleur's confession merely confirmed the logical chain already clearly formed in his mind.
"Exactly right—it involves a sum of..."
Fleur weighed her words carefully, seeming to measure what information could be disclosed.
"A sum... of assets critically important to our family. They've been frozen for years in the complex procedures and restrictions of certain magical bureaucrats, seriously affecting the family's livelihood and some important magical research.
We tried many methods, even sought out people from the International Magical Cooperation department, all to no avail. The bureaucratic system and those outdated regulations were like thick layers of ice, simply impossible to break through. If we lose this industry, the family will suffer greatly, and magical research will be difficult to continue...
Then, shortly after I was confirmed as Beauxbatons' champion, Mr. Holmes contacted us. He didn't reveal any details about how he learned of our predicament, but he clearly stated that he had both the ability and the willingness to clear those obstacles. Just as you said, when his representative first met with us, he didn't merely propose conditions."
She paused, a complex light flashing in her eyes—concern for her family's predicament mixed with admiration for Mycroft's methods.
"That person directly showed us a document at the time—a critical document that we couldn't obtain despite using all our connections. What terrified us even more was that less than twenty-four hours after he left, the Muggle local bureaucrat who had been adamantly opposed to us was transferred from his position.
He was replaced by a new bureaucrat who expressed understanding of our family industry's historical background and proactively contacted us to renegotiate! This must be what you just called a demonstration of power."
By this point, Fleur's voice had shifted from helplessness to powerlessness.
"He promised that as long as I could complete the task, he would ensure our family's difficulties were resolved before the end of the tournament. He even hinted that he could facilitate certain commercial activities for our family in Britain's Muggle world. We simply couldn't refuse such payment. Or rather, we couldn't afford the consequences of refusing him."
"So, monitoring my every move, recording my little actions—this is the key task for you to obtain this payment that even your entire family cannot refuse?"
"Yes. He asked me to, during my time at Hogwarts, especially during the Triwizard Tournament, collect and report your key movements, action details, and especially your preparation and response strategies for the competition tasks to him."
"Excellent. My dear brother uses this as leverage to insert a hand into an ancient tournament he doesn't directly participate in. Just to ensure he can always grasp every detail of whatever small troubles his restless younger brother stirs up in the magical world? What a truly wonderful big brother!"
"That's right. He emphasized to me that your safety is his primary concern."
Fleur couldn't help recalling Mycroft's calm yet oppressively authoritative words. Even though she was only conversing with Mycroft's representative, everything still seemed to be on his chessboard.
"Safety? Wrong—this is merely comprehensive control. He needs to know my every plan, especially those parts that might deviate from the norm or might bring surprises."
Sherlock let out a short, light laugh that sounded particularly clear in the empty classroom.
"Of course, this perfectly confirms his stereotypical assessment of my impulsiveness and discomfort with established rules. Precisely speaking, this is simply a typical case from his predictive model—he loves seeing his predictions proven correct."
Hermione looked at Sherlock, then at Fleur, and finally couldn't help asking.
"So, Miss Delacour, why are you telling us all this now? If you violate your agreement with his brother, the payment he promised you..."
"This is precisely why I've come to you, Sherlock."
Fleur looked at Sherlock, speaking sincerely.
"I've come to you not only because I want to tell you about this, but more importantly because I cannot solve the golden egg's puzzle."
Hermione looked at Fleur Delacour in surprise. You're asking your competitor for help? This operation is too incredible!
She heard Fleur continue.
"With only one week left until the second task, we still have no clue. With you at Hogwarts, the championship is already beyond our reach. But... at least Beauxbatons cannot come in last! This concerns not only my personal honor, but the school's dignity and Madame Maxime's expectations. I assume you already know that Madame Maxime sought out Professor Hagrid."
She looked directly at Sherlock, using a tone of last resort.
"I've come to request your guidance—even just a hint. In exchange..."
She paused, lowering her voice even further, yet making it exceptionally clear.
"I'm willing to become your collaborator rather than your monitor. I will continue transmitting information to your brother, but what to transmit and how to transmit it—these will all be decided by you. I have only one request. don't make me stand in opposition to him. The cost of being his enemy is something neither I nor my family can bear."
Hermione was completely stunned. Honestly, she wasn't very familiar with this girl.
First, she was French. Second, she was far too proud. But at this moment, watching the desperation in Fleur's eyes as she struggled between family interests, tournament dignity, and fear of Mycroft, Hermione seemed to see someone desperately struggling, trying to grasp a lifeline.
She couldn't help looking toward Sherlock, wanting to know how he would respond.
Several seconds later, Sherlock slowly spoke.
"The golden egg's sound changes underwater."
Fleur's eyes suddenly widened!
As someone chosen to be a Triwizard Tournament champion and captain, Fleur naturally wasn't stupid. Connecting this to recent school rumors about Hogwarts' trio and Durmstrang swimming in the Black Lake during winter...
The fog that had troubled her for weeks was instantly dispersed. What made her even more delighted was that he had actually told her the answer! However, just as wild joy surged to her heart, Sherlock's next words plunged her into an icy abyss.
"As for cooperation, Miss Delacour, you seem to have overlooked something crucial."
Sherlock gave a light laugh.
"You standing here now, confessing to me, seeking protection... This itself has already placed you in opposition to Mycroft."
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