7:00 PM, London.
On a filthy street lined with a few dilapidated buildings, a pub, and a wall covered in messy graffiti, Sherlock and Harry arrived.
"Can't we just Apparate directly into the Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked.
"If you're a Ministry employee, you can Apparate directly inside, but visitors can't. The entire interior of the Ministry is protected by an Anti-Apparition Ward, similar to Hogwarts; only employees with granted permissions can enter directly."(TN: You definitely cannot even as a ministry employee.)
Sherlock led him to a dilapidated red telephone box and pushed the door open to step inside.
The telephone box looked incredibly worn out, and the door seemed to be malfunctioning. As it was closing, it suddenly jerked as if pulled by some force and slammed into the back of Harry's head.
Harry clutched his head, squatting on the ground in pain and sucking in a breath of cold air.
Sherlock cautioned him.
"Be more careful."
"It's fine, I just accidentally bumped it."
In the past, Harry would have definitely attributed this to Sherlock's earlier birthday wish, but now he just felt he had been clumsy.
Sherlock held the receiver in his hand. Although it was also his first time entering the Ministry of Magic, the method for entering as a visitor was clearly written in the Original Owner's diary.
The Original Owner had used this exact method on his first day applying for a job at the Ministry.
He pressed the numbers "62442" on the telephone. Soon after, a cold female voice rang out from the top of the booth.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Sherlock Cavendish and Harry Potter. Invited by Kingsley Shacklebolt of the Auror Office to assist in researching a case currently under investigation by the Aurors."
Kingsley had clearly already spoken with the receptionist, as the female voice responded quickly.
"Thank you," the woman's cold voice said. "Visitors, please take your badges and pin them to the front of your robes."
Two square silver badges slid out of the metal chute normally used for returning coins. Sherlock picked them up and handed the one with Harry's name on it to him.
Harry saw the text on the badge: Harry Potter, Assisting Investigation.
"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search at the security desk and register your wand. The security desk is located at the end of the Atrium."
The receptionist's voice rang out again. As her cold tone faded, Harry suddenly felt the entire telephone box plunging downward!
The pavement outside rose higher and higher, and soon they were plunged into darkness overhead.
The descent lasted about a minute before they reached the underground level.
Before the booth came to a stop, it suddenly jolted, causing Harry to lose his footing. He pitched forward abruptly, and his forehead slammed into the glass door.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," the receptionist said, and then the door to the telephone box opened.
Sherlock stepped out, followed by Harry, who was once again clutching his forehead in pain.
"I told you to be careful. Look at you now, hit on both the front and back," Sherlock said with a shrug.
Harry's face was blank. Once could be an accident, but twice made him feel like something was fishy.
But at this moment, he still held onto a bit of hope as he followed Sherlock to the security desk to register his wand.
As the government institution of the British Wizarding World, the Ministry of Magic was naturally built to be magnificent. Within the golden hall was a fountain, and in the circular pool stood a set of pure gold statues, larger than life.
The most prominent was a noble-looking Wizard, holding his wand high and pointing straight at the sky. Surrounding him were a beautiful Witch, a Centaur, a Goblin, and a House-elf.
The Centaur, Goblin, and House-elf were all looking up at the two Wizards with boundless adoration.
While his wand was being checked, Sherlock pondered the intent behind this set of statues; other than boosting the Wizards' own sense of self-satisfaction, it served no beneficial purpose.
Setting aside the House-elves, a race that had been completely domesticated, this would undoubtedly provoke infinite resentment from the Centaurs and Goblins.
Based on this statue alone, if he were a Goblin or a Centaur, he would never set foot in the Ministry of Magic.
No wonder the Centaur Liaison Office hadn't managed to contact a single Centaur in all these years, and the Goblins had only been beaten into submission after their rebellions.
After Sherlock and Harry finished their wand check, they shook off the inspector—who had recognised Harry's identity and kept staring at the scar on his forehead—and walked straight into an elevator.
The elevator wasn't just filled with people; many paper aeroplanes were flying in and out as well. One of them nearly poked Harry's recently injured forehead.
"These are memos used by the Ministry to send messages," Sherlock explained to Harry.
In truth, this was also his first time seeing them in person; he had only seen them described in the Original Owner's diary before.
They took the elevator all the way to the second floor, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Almost no one else got off on this floor, only Sherlock and Harry.
"What kind of case are we here to help with, Professor?" Harry finally couldn't help but ask.
"A series of murders," Sherlock said with a grave expression.
Hearing his words, Harry's breathing couldn't help but grow heavy, and he didn't ask any more questions.
They walked around a corner and arrived at a room with a sign on the door that read "Case Investigation Room".
Just as Sherlock was about to knock, the door was suddenly opened from the inside.
Kingsley emerged from the room, leading a creature draped in a cloak. It looked as if it had been soaked and left to rot in water, and it constantly emitted an aura of ash and despair.
Sherlock frowned as he glanced at the monster, recognising it as a guard of Azkaban prison—a Dementor.
"Ah, Sherlock, you're here," Kingsley said, a look of surprise and delight appearing on his face.
Although the aura emanating from the Dementor made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, it didn't have any further effect. Sherlock nodded.
"This is?"
"The leader of the Dementors that came from Azkaban. It's here to cooperate with our investigation."
The moment Harry saw that deathly creature, he felt as if he had been plunged into ice water, unable to catch his breath.
He saw the monster's hands; they were covered in scabs, looking as though its entire body was rotting.
The cold aura continuously enveloped him, turning everything before his eyes into shades of grey. Harry gasped for air, his breathing becoming louder and louder, until he finally felt the whole world spinning.
Thud!
A heavy sound rang out. Harry's eyes rolled back, and his body toppled backwards, fainting onto the floor.
This gave Sherlock quite a fright, and it was only then that Kingsley noticed Harry following behind Sherlock.
They hurriedly helped Harry up from the floor.
"Why did you bring him here?" Kingsley asked with a frown.
"I was originally going to celebrate his birthday, but then I received your letter. Harry didn't want to go back to his aunt's house, and I couldn't leave him alone, so I had to bring him along."
"Sorry, that's my fault."
Kingsley spoke self-reproachfully, then looked at the Dementor.
"You can go ahead. Remember to keep your kind in check. If any Dementor attacks occur, the Ministry of Magic will not let it slide."
The Dementor gave no response. It seemed to glance at the unconscious Harry before drifting away down the corridor.
Sherlock and Kingsley carried Harry to the Auror Office together. They left him in the care of Tonks, who had recently joined and was still in the odd-job phase, before returning to the Case Investigation Room.
"You should have seen the news in The Daily Prophet these past couple of days. Black has escaped from that prison."
On the way, Kingsley explained the purpose of calling Sherlock over.
"After Black escaped, the Dementors were exceptionally furious; this is the first time in history anyone has successfully escaped from there. So, they began leaving the prison in large numbers to search for the fugitive Black, and the Ministry agreed to it."
"But since these Dementors came out of the prison, a total of six deaths have occurred over the past few days."
"The first five were attacks on Muggles, and the manner of death was identical: the body remains alive, but the soul has been consumed."
"At that time, the department was still preoccupied with the Black situation, and since the victims were all Muggles, the higher-ups didn't pay much attention."
"But just yesterday, a Wizard also died. The cause of death was exactly the same as the previous five Muggles. Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, finally took it seriously and specially requested a meeting with the Dementor leader to cooperate with the investigation at the Ministry."
"The victims' manner of death perfectly matches the state after a Dementor's Kiss. We've suspected the Dementors all along. You know, those creatures have never been trustworthy, let alone now that they've come out of that prison."
"However, the Dementor leader claims that none of these six attacks were their doing. That Dementor said they sensed something terrifying had arrived in Great Britain, and it was that thing that ate the souls of the deceased."
"You've always been an expert in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and back when you were in the department, your research on Dementors was quite in-depth. So, I wanted to ask you to come and take a look, to see if you can discover anything."
Sherlock learned the full story from Kingsley, then followed him into the Case Investigation Room.
The room was empty except for six beds, each holding a victim.
No, they couldn't exactly be called corpses, because these people could still breathe and had heartbeats, but they remained motionless like dead people. Their expressions were terrified and distorted, yet their eyes held only deathly ash.
For over a year now, the area Sherlock had researched most was the field the Original Owner had always delved into—Defence Against the Dark Arts.
This included the two books he had written and published, "A Guide to Identifying Dark Creatures" and "Defensive Spells". Sherlock knew them by heart and had studied them thoroughly.
Within "A Guide to Identifying Dark Creatures", there was professional research regarding Dementors.
Because Dementors are, in essence, the darkest creatures in this world.
If it weren't for the fact that there was no way to eradicate them and no better solution, the Ministry of Magic would not have compromised.
That's right, letting them serve as guards at Azkaban was actually a form of compromise.
Sherlock walked up to one of the living dead and tapped various parts of his body lightly with his wand, while Kingsley introduced the man's information from the side.
"John Nelson, from Norwich. He was found in an alley on his way home five days ago. Williamson and I arrived at the scene immediately. Later, the Ministry requested his body back from the Muggle government."
After a series of tests, Sherlock's expression gradually became solemn.
"His soul was indeed eaten, but it wasn't caused by a Dementor's Kiss."
"A Dementor's Kiss starts with a person's emotions; its essence is to consume positive emotions. For example, joy, hope, and the desire to live. Once these emotions are completely consumed, the person's soul is effectively destroyed, leaving only endless despair and ash."
"But these people are different."
Sherlock pointed to the terrified and distorted face of the Muggle named Nelson.
"He endured immense fear before he died. At the time, he could think of nothing else but being afraid. Then, when his fear reached its peak, something savoured his soul and ate it."
"The soul is the main course, and fear is the seasoning. It's also enjoying a feast, but its way of feeding is completely different from a Dementor's."
After hearing Sherlock's words and looking at the six living dead, Kingsley suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine.
"What kind of creature would do such a thing?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"I don't know. Among known Dark creatures, none fit this description."
"Creatures that feed on souls are already extremely rare, and this is the first time I've heard of one that adds a bit of seasoning while eating the soul."
Kingsley's brow furrowed deeply, and he crossed his arms uneasily.
"Black's escape has already caused enough chaos at the Ministry. Now that this has happened, the Aurors are going to be short-handed."
Sherlock sighed and shook his head.
"This isn't something you need to worry about yet. Scrimgeour is the one who should be worrying; he is the Head of the Auror Office."
Kingsley nodded heavily. Just as he was about to thank Sherlock, he suddenly realised that today's Sherlock seemed a bit different from the one he knew. He looked at Sherlock with surprise, sizing him up.
"After teaching at Hogwarts for a year, I feel like you've changed a lot."
Sherlock shrugged.
"Can a person still be called human if they never change? If you knew what I went through at the end of this school year, you wouldn't be surprised by my changes."
"It has to do with the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk." Kingsley had clearly been following the events at Hogwarts as well.
"Exactly, that time," Sherlock said wistfully. "The time I personally experienced death."
Looking at the current Sherlock, a smile unconsciously appeared on Kingsley's face.
"I think your changes aren't bad at all."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Then do we need to get to know each other all over again?"
Kingsley reached out a hand to him with a smile.
"Hello, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt."
Sherlock also smiled and shook his outstretched hand.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Sherlock Cavendish."