Sherlock's abilities need no elaboration, so the moment Rufus, the Minister of Magic's assistant, appeared, he already knew the man's identity.
This guy was Cornelius Fudge's nephew.
Every door on the first level of the Ministry had a small plaque with the occupant's name and position written on it.
The door where Rufus was located read. [Rufus Fudge—Assistant to the Minister of Magic]
The same surname, plus observing and deducing some subtle aspects of his behavior, Sherlock was certain of this.
Nepotism.
Strictly speaking, this couldn't be considered wrong.
If one's relative was capable enough, then placing them in a suitable position was indeed more appropriate and reassuring than an outsider.
But as for this Rufus here... Sherlock shook his head silently.
He could only say that if Fudge continued to keep him in such an important position, this guy would be finished sooner or later.
However, this was the Ministry's and Fudge's own business. Sherlock couldn't be bothered to say more.
Next, led by Rufus, the Minister's assistant, the group successfully boarded the lift.
"This lift is for exclusive use by the Minister's office staff. We don't have to stop and can go directly to the ninth floor."
Rufus proudly introduced to everyone, "This was Minister Fudge's initiative after taking office. Its establishment has greatly improved the work efficiency of the Minister's office."
Seeing this, Fudge immediately straightened his chest, slightly raising his chin, speaking in a tone that seemed modest but was actually smug.
"The office is the core hub of the Ministry of Magic. Serving the entire Ministry well is an appropriate measure."
Seeing this, Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle softly.
They really weren't ashamed but proud of it.
Well, these bureaucrats had been detached from the masses for too long. They'd probably become accustomed to enjoying privileges.
"What are you laughing at?"
Rufus immediately looked at Sherlock and said with displeasure.
He even glanced reproachfully at Dumbledore and the other Hogwarts professors, secretly dissatisfied.
How were these people educating students?
With the Minister of Magic present, they still didn't know to be solemn and dignified?
"I thought of something happy."
Rufus hadn't expected Sherlock to actually answer, and instinctively asked again, "What happy thing?"
Everyone except Fudge looked at Rufus with the eyes one might use for an idiot.
Well, now even without Sherlock stating his deduction, everyone already knew what kind of person this guy was.
"Department of Mysteries."
Just then, that cold woman's voice rang out.
Strangely, when announcing floors one through eight, this voice had given detailed introductions.
But this time, after saying this sentence, it fell silent.
At the same time, the lift doors clattered open.
"We've arrived."
Now that they'd reached their destination, Rufus temporarily forgot about this matter and hurriedly let Fudge out of the lift.
The others also filed out one by one.
Next, the group slowly walked through a corridor.
This corridor was completely different from those on the upper floors—the walls were bare, with no doors or windows.
Only at the end of the corridor was a simple black door.
"Department of Mysteries."
Sherlock softly repeated the name.
In the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Mysteries was a very special agency.
No one ever knew what the people in this department actually did, because their tasks were top secret level.
According to Hannah's introduction, the wizards working here were called Unspeakables.
Even when her father introduced colleagues working in this agency, he could only say their work content was classified.
It could only be described as mysterious, very mysterious.
Noticing Sherlock's gaze, Harry instinctively thought they would go through that door and walked in that direction.
"Harry, come back, we're not going there!"
However, Professor Lupin grabbed his arm and pulled him to the left.
There was an opening here leading to a stairway.
Fudge didn't say anything, but Rufus glared hard at Harry. "You—"
He was about to speak when Fudge stopped him. "Lead the way, Rufus."
At this moment, Harry was also surprised to discover that Sherlock, who had seemed about to walk through that door, was somehow now standing beside Sirius, right before that stairway.
Harry: (◎_◎;)
"This way."
At this point, Rufus also followed Fudge's words and stepped down the stairs first, saying to everyone.
"The lifts don't go down this deep, so we can only get to the ninth level and then walk down from there."
They descended the stairs one by one, then passed through another long corridor.
Harry couldn't help but look toward Professor Snape. Because in his view, this place was exactly like those corridors at Hogwarts leading to the underground Potions classroom.
Rough stone walls, torches inserted into brackets,
The two contrasting elements gave a dark, gloomy, terrifying feeling.
As if noticing Harry's gaze, Snape turned his head expressionlessly.
His facial expression was hard to read, but after just a moment, it became as gloomy and unpleasant as before.
In the end, Harry's face was thinner, and he was the first to look away.
Sherlock took in the eye contact between the two men, smiling without comment.
However, he paid more attention to the surrounding environment.
All the doors here were heavy wooden doors embedded with iron knockers and keyholes, giving the feeling that behind each of these doors were unspeakable secrets.
Finally, Rufus stopped before a gloomy black door that also had a large iron lock hanging on it.
"Minister, everyone, we've arrived at Courtroom Ten."
Fudge nodded. "Let's go in."
Rufus immediately turned the ridiculously heavy iron handle.
Accompanied by a harsh metal scraping sound, the heavy black stone door opened inward.
A mixture of stone dust, dampness, and some deeper, colder chill rushed toward them.
Fudge gestured to Dumbledore, and the two entered almost one after the other, with Dumbledore slightly behind by half a position.
Next were Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Lupin, and Sirius.
After them came Sherlock and Harry side by side.
Harry couldn't help but gasp. He couldn't quite control himself.
This was a huge circular room. The surrounding walls were built from rough black rock.
On the towering walls were embedded ancient brackets with blazing torches inserted in them, their leaping flames casting flickering, unstable light and shadow below.
The orange-red glow elongated and distorted shadows on the walls, constantly jumping and flickering, yet failing to dispel the chamber's cold.
On both sides were rows of gradually rising empty benches. Before the group, on the highest few benches, many dark figures appeared, whispering among themselves.
Rufus was the last to enter the courtroom. When the heavy door closed behind him, the whispering stopped, and a silence descended.
In the very center of the room stood an empty chair.
This chair gave Harry an ominous feeling, because its armrests were wound with chains, as if meant for binding people.
Harry increasingly felt this place was like Snape's Potions classroom, especially with that bleak and gloomy atmosphere.
There were no portraits on the walls, no decorations—only those rows and rows of densely packed long benches arranged in tiers.
This ensured that from all seats, one could clearly see that chair with chains.
"Well then, let's each take our seats. Once everyone's here, the trial can begin."
This eerie stone chamber seemed to have no effect on Fudge. He still smiled as he spoke to everyone.
Seeing Dumbledore nod, Fudge excitedly walked toward the front row of benches.
About fifty people were already seated there, all wearing plum-colored robes with an exquisite silver "W" embroidered on the left front chest.
Under Rufus's guidance, Fudge walked straight to the very center of the front row and sat down.
Because he was a large, fat man, he occupied more space than others. Combined with his different attire, he stood out particularly prominently among the group in plum-colored robes.
To Fudge's left sat a broad-figured witch with a square jaw.
She had capable gray short hair and wore a monocle.
Her appearance was actually not bad, but the expression on her face was intimidating, giving the impression of someone not easily fooled.
To his right sat another witch, but she sat somewhat back on the bench, her face shrouded in shadow, making it impossible to see what she looked like.
Rufus helped Fudge sit down, then seated himself at the very edge of the front bench.
At this time, other people were also guiding Sherlock and the others to their seats.
Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin sat in sequence on one long bench.
Their seating position happened to be symmetrical with Fudge's position, with that empty chair wrapped in chains as the axis, both in the first rows on either side.
Sherlock and Harry were arranged even further behind them, almost at the very highest point of the entire room, the farthest distance from that chair.
This made Harry somewhat regretful.
His static vision wasn't very good, so he might not be able to see very clearly later.
Fortunately, all the benches in the room were distributed in tiers, so there was no worry about having their view blocked by people in front.
As a witness, Sirius didn't sit with these observers but was led away by staff, going who knows where.
Watching Sirius disappear from his sight; Harry took a deep breath and was about to say something to Sherlock beside him to ease this oppressive atmosphere.
The heavy black wooden door in the corner of the room was suddenly pushed open with a bang.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long staff, wrapped in a black traveling cloak.
At this moment, everyone in the courtroom turned their heads to look at the stranger.
They saw him remove his hood, shake out long grayish-white hair, and begin walking toward the tiered benches.
Clunk, clunk. With each step he took, a hollow sound echoed through the stone chamber.
Watching him limp toward this direction, as the distance between them grew closer, the torchlight also allowed everyone to see his appearance clearly.
Harry involuntarily gasped.
What kind of face was this!
It was like something carved from a piece of decaying wood, and the carver only had a vague concept of what a human face should look like and wasn't very skilled with the carving knife.
The final result was that every inch of skin on that face seemed covered with scars. His mouth was like a crooked gash, and where his nose should have protruded was missing.
Although this person's appearance was already quite abstract, Harry had seen Voldemort stuck to the back of Quirrell's head in his first year, so while this appearance was horrifying, it wasn't enough to scare him.
What really made him gasp involuntarily was this man's eyes.
One of his eyes was small, dark, and bright.
But the other eye was large, round like a coin, and a vivid bright blue.
What's more, that blue eye kept moving constantly.
Up, down, left, right, forward, backward—
It rolled around and around, completely independent of the normal eye.
Just as Harry was staring at it, that large eyeball suddenly rolled over and drilled into the man's head.
This left him seeing only a large white eyeball.
"Alastor Moody."
Sherlock softly spoke a name.
"Sherlock, you know him?"
Harry looked at Sherlock in surprise, not understanding why he would know such a strange person.
"Not just me—you should also recognize him, my dear friend."
Harry shook his head repeatedly. "How could I possibly know him?"
This was someone you couldn't possibly forget once you'd seen them, okay?
Sherlock chuckled softly. "Let me remind you—just a few days ago, Mrs. Weasley said she would ask him to help."
Harry's memory couldn't compare with Sherlock's, but with Sherlock's reminder, after pondering for a moment, he still recalled the name.
"Mad-Eye Moody!"
Sherlock shrugged. "See, old chap? Nicknames are always easier to remember than names."
"But how did you know he was—"
Harry was about to continue asking Sherlock how he knew this strange person was Moody when he saw the stranger walk straight to Dumbledore's side.
He extended a hand that was as scarred as his face.
Dumbledore shook hands with him and said a few words quietly. He then sat down beside Professor Snape.
Harry noticed that Professor Snape shifted his bottom toward Dumbledore's direction.
"Seeing his appearance, I believe you shouldn't doubt his identity."
Sherlock smiled and said.
...
Well, with that face, if you said he was Mad-Eye, absolutely no one would doubt it.
In the following time, people kept arriving like Moody had, gradually filling the room with more and more people.
Harry estimated there were at least two hundred wizards in the entire room.
"To be precise, 255," Sherlock's fingers lightly tapped his knee. "I think it's time to begin."
In the silence of the courtroom, the curtain officially rose.
A new storm had already begun.
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