Chương 163: Chapter 163: Awaiting An Attack
A week had passed since Sherlock Forester and Amy had paid his younger self a visit, choosing to lay low within the confines of his quaint room in the Leaky Cauldron. A peculiar weather pattern had graced London with an uncharacteristically clear sky, and Amy, hoping for the chance of a cool breeze to cool her down, sat by the window, attentively watching the little pinwheel that Sherlock had gifted her refuse to spin even a little. Alas, the wind did not show up even once that day, so she resorted to manually spinning it in the direct sunlight, her cheerfulness unaffected by the lack of breeze.
Sherlock, however, was swallowed up in deep contemplation. He had sprawled a map of the United Kingdom across the wooden table, having worked with Severus Snape to chart out and comprehend significant Dark Wizard attacks since their arrival in this timeline. Their research honed in on a key event, the Welsh battle between the Aurors and the Death Eaters, which served as a landmark moment in the surge of Dark Wizard activities. These attacks didn't occur within a vacuum, but rather, were connected to each other; they were interwoven, all part of Voldemort's evil plans.
Using Snape's valuable insights from being a Death Eater himself, Sherlock had noted on his map the chilling progression of attacks. The day after the Welsh incident, two helpless Muggles were prejudicially murdered near Hereford, closely bordering Wales. Within another two days, Rabastan Lestrange, a notorious wizard tied to the Dark Forces and brother to Rodolphus, and his accomplices were observed unleashing chaos on a Muggle residence in Birmingham, a city only a short broomstick ride from Hereford. Another two days later, a deadly fire erupted in Northampton, ending with one Muggle succumbing to the disaster. The Ministry of Magic had indisputably detected traces of dark magic in the ashes of these ruins.
It didn't stop there; only three days later, a pair of insidious dark wizards, veiled by masks and jetting on their broomsticks, rained a tirade of Killing Curses onto the ground from above in Luton, a city over 40 kilometers away from London. Fortunately, their terror play was staged in a remote area, resulting in no fatalities. However, the exact motive behind their castings remained murkily veiled.
Within a single day, on the same day Igor Karkaroff and Antonin Dolohov made their inquest about Amy's whereabouts at the Leaky Cauldron, a colossal explosion rocked the wilderness just outside Cambridge. Though no lives were claimed, unsuspecting Muggles had seen the explosion and the sinister Dark Mark radiating against the night sky. The Ministry's Obliviators scrambled to wipe the incident from the Muggles' memory.
Two days slipped by until tragedy struck again, this time in Peterborough, north of Cambridge. A Muggle wizard was captured, tortured, and ultimately murdered by the transient Dark Wizards who were in the surrounding area before Dolohov showed up. And just today the latest edition of the Prophet broke news of a dozen of Dark Wizards that had made an appearance in Lincolnshire, far north in England. Leading them was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, a notoriously loyal Death Eater who closely served Lord Voldemort.
After marking these terrifying events of dark interventions on his map from Wales, Sherlock saw a threatening pattern. Their sinister advancements seemed to gravitate towards London. However, after reaching Luton, the Dark Wizards swerved northwest, darting from Cambridge to Peterborough and then to Lincoln. Every two days, the Dark Wizards seemed to target a new city northwest of England into this mess. It grew evident that a calculated plan guided their movements.
Sherlock hypothesized that the initial movements had been oriented from Wales to London. However, it had taken an abrupt turn upon reaching Luton. The timing was too precise to be a coincidence, leading Sherlock to suspect that this odd shift had to do with Dark Wizards trying to pinpoint Amy. Concluding from the pattern of their recent advances and continued northwest trajectory, he assumed the next city they would terrorize could well be Sheffield, situated centrally in England, or even farther north in York.
Staring pensively at the map, Sherlock's sharp eye noticed the circle he had drawn, centring on Sheffield and extending to York was heavily populated with cities. Each of which seemed vulnerable to a looming battle. Voldemort's followers' activities had been top news the entire month, and the Ministry of Magic was certainly not going to sit idly, letting negativity brew within the wizarding community. They desperately needed a significant victory against this continued infiltration to restore the wizarding world's faith.
Sherlock looked at the circle he had drawn, deliberating on the information held on his map he finally decided he must go and have a look. Danger was implied in such a decision, but it provided him an ideal opportunity to build connections within the Ministry and its employees. If he played his cards right, infiltrating the auror headquarters was not an inconceivable goal. Sherlock already knew many of the faces within the Auror department from the future; Alastor Moody, impaired in the future, but still a formidable force amongst the Aurors and Kingsley who despite his recent induction into the field, showcased prodigious potential as an Auror. Even though Sherlock couldn't reveal his true identity to these two key players in the game, he was confident that his knowledge of their personalities would help him covertly build relationships and possibly even infiltrate the Department of Mysteries.
With his plan solidified, Sherlock was all set to embark on his mission. Unlike their previous expeditions, Amy, unfortunately, had to remain behind this time due to the dangerous nature of this quest. Sherlock initially considered leaving Amy under Snape's care but on second thought, knowing Snape's distinct temperament, he was unsure who'd end up looking after whom.
Amy, engrossed in her pinwheel game, picked up on Sherlock's dilemma and asked with a cute head tilt, "Are you getting ready to leave, John?"
Sherlock affectionately ruffled her hair and replied, "Yes, but unfortunately, you can't accompany me this time. This mission may prove too dangerous."
Amy respectfully nodded, her golden hair swaying in a wave of white reflecting the sunlight. "I'll be okay here, John," she assured him. "Before meeting you, I was already alone. I'm not afraid."
Sherlock fell silent on hearing her words, after a while solemnly pinching her delicate cheek, he proposed "When I come back, we should definitely visit a muggle amusement park, what do you think?"
The concept of an amusement park was foreign to Amy, but the idea of any excursion sufficed for her to bubble with excitement. "Okay!"
In a rare moment of sentiment, she unclasped an amulet from her neck and offered it to Sherlock. "Daddy gave me this, saying it would always bring Amy luck. John can have it for a while, it will definitely bring John good luck."
Embracing the sentiment attached to the amulet, Sherlock laughed, graciously accepting the gift. He hung the amulet around his neck, an additional armament for the perilous journey ahead.
Subsequent to his preparations, Sherlock Forester arose and ventured into Diagon Alley, making purchases of numerous magical snacks along with magically self-heating pumpkin porridge and sandwiches that maintained their freshness until the packaging was breached. He left these enchanting victuals in care of Amy, who would be residing solitary in his room and could only sneak downstairs to buy some bread.
Upon assuring Amy was comfortable, he conveyed his imminent departure from the Leaky Cauldron to Snape. Snape, his emotions unvoiced, instructed Sherlock to proceed promptly, so as not to hinder his potion concocting. Sherlock's last directive to Tom, the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron, was to steer clear of his room, before he stepped into the fireplace and traveled to Sheffield.
Materializing from the the viridescent blaze that transported him, Sherlock found himself within the Owl Postal Office, an efficient service established by the Ministry of Magic in Sheffield. Once his rapid whirlwind of a journey concluded, he stood firm with a cloud of dust choking the air around him, a byproduct of the fireplace's lack of use during the off-season. With a swift application of a cleaning charm to rid himself of the dust, Sherlock strode out of the fireplace, finding an elderly wizard seated in the room ogling him.
The senior wizard queried, a mix of surprise and curiosity coloring his voice, "Oh, lad, what brings you to Sheffield?"
Sherlock offered a knowing glance, realizing he was speaking to the official overseeing the Owl Postal Office. "I used the public Floo Network to get here, I didn't know I had to exonerate my intentions?"
The wizard, his age-wrinkled hands distracting from his copy of the Daily Prophet, neither acknowledged nor contradicted Sherlock's statement. "Tha' knows, there's nowt that needs justifying yer intentions, lad. But unless it's reet crucial, I'd reckon it's best not t' linger in this city for too long, especially in this day and age."
His statement, uncannily cryptic, seemed like a warning, but in truth was a demonstration of his knowledge of certain concealed matters, intending to provoke Sherlock's curiosity. This behavior was a typical trait of a lonely elder with no one to talk to.
Sherlock, diplomatically indulging the wizard, inquired, "I am just here on a visit, sir. Is there something amiss here?"
At Sherlock's question, the old wizard exhibited a satisfied grin, maintaining his enigmatic demeanor, "Just be mindful, unless it's right urgent, it's best t'bugger off with right haste. The sooner ye scarper, the better."
The old wizard then shrouded his warning with an alarming sigh, "The whole thing's turnin' into a proper muddle, it is. I reckon it's about time I dropped a line to the Ministry, let 'em know I'm hangin' up me wizard's hat and headin' back to the tranquility of me golden years."
Sherlock, after absorbing the wizard's words, stepped outside the Owl Postal Office. Despite the wizard's nebulous caution, Sherlock was able to infer the Ministry of Magic's involvement in Sheffield. Indeed, the Aurors had detected a stir among the Death Eaters and suspected, in line with Sherlock's prediction, the city of Sheffield was their imminent target. The Aurors might have positioned personnel within Sheffield and its surrounding cities, such as York, equipped with the Disillusionment Charm at the ready. The guards at the Owl Postal Office, although relatively low-ranking employees of the Ministry, were privy to these operations by their sheer geographical attachment. Hence, their secrecy was somewhat compromised. The tactics of the Death Eaters, on the other hand, were oddly conspicuous, their sequential attacks seemingly aimless, and their trails blatantly visible. It was as though an enticing bait was set up for Sherlock, a bid to ensnare him within a malicious trap established for him alone, should he fail to react.
Sherlock, after exiting the postal office, hailed a taxi which whisked him straight to Sheffield city center where he secured accommodations at a local hotel. Sheffield was experiencing an epoch of transition at the time. Formerly celebrated as Britain's steel capital and industrial nucleus, it lay suppressed by global competition and the collapse of the national coal industry. Consequently, its population dwindled until the 1990s when it transformed into a city of sports and technology, sparking the revival of its industry.
He took a stroll through the city streets, on the lookout for out-of-place individuals who clearly seemed distinct from ordinary Muggles and wielded a peculiar wooden stick. Despite Hogwarts including Muggle Studies in their curriculum, the wizarding community was considerably behind the times due to the soaring progression of the Muggle world. Even Harry, a wizard who grew up in the muggle world, struggled to blend into Muggle society, invariably subconsciously holding onto his wand, a sure-fire telltale sign of his wizarding origins. Keeping these clues in mind, Sherlock roamed the bustling city of Sheffield until eventually, he spotted a man jaunting aimlessly with a peculiar wooden stick in his hand. Sherlock, deciding not to tail this unknown wizard directly, stepped into a secluded alley, summoned his Patronus charm and released it into the sky to shadow the stranger. And so, the silver raven took flight, an inconspicuous eye in the sky over Sheffield.
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