Chapter 115: Main Course and Seasoning

7:00 PM, London.

Sherlock and Harry found themselves on a dismal, grungy street lined with dilapidated buildings, alongside a grimy bar and a wall plastered with an organized chaos of graffiti.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to just Apparate right into the Ministry of Magic?" wondered Harry aloud.

Sherlock shook his head, "If we were Ministry employees, we'd be able to Apparate directly. But we aren't, and the Ministry, much like Hogwarts, has Anti-Apparition enchantments. Only authorized employees have that direct access," he informed.

Guiding Harry towards an aged, red phone booth, Sherlock swung the shaky door open. The desolate booth felt to be on its last legs, its door protesting as Sherlock attempted to close it, finally giving way to a sudden surge of force that cracked into the back of Harry's skull.

"Be careful," Sherlock reminded.

Grimacing, Harry nursed his throbbing head and drew in a rattling breath, "I'm okay, just bumped into it accidentally," he reassured.

Previously, Harry might have attributed it to Sherlock's form of a birthday surprise. But now, he felt as though it was his unending clumsiness.

Sherlock moved over to the phone receiver, handling it as if familiar; though it was his first time here, the diary of the original owner had provided him detailed instructions on entering the Ministry as a visitor, as it recorded how he had used it on the day of his job interview.

Impressing the numbers ''62442" on to the archaic phone pad, Sherlock was soon answered by a frosty voice that seemed to echo from the top of the booth, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."

"Sherlock Forester and Harry Potter," he stated, his voice echoing a formal professionalism, "We have been requested by Kingsley Shacklebolt at the Auror Headquarters to assist with an ongoing investigation."

Kingsley had clearly communicated with the receptionist prior to their arrival as the frosty voice responded without hesitation, "Thank you. Please take a badge each and display them on your clothes."

Silver badges bearing their names dispatched from the return coin slit. Passing one to Harry, Sherlock examined his: it read 'Sherlock Forester, Assisting with Investigation'.

"As visitors at the Ministry, you will be subject to security checks and wand registration. Proceed to the atrium's security checkpoint," the voice instructed. As her final words echoed, the booth started its rapid descent.

The claustrophobic confines of the phone booth seemed impossibly dark as they sank into oblivion. The descent lasted a full minute before they made it underground. The abrupt stop caused Harry to lose his balance and hit his forehead on the glass door with an unfortunate thud.

"Please enjoy your visit to the Ministry of Magic," the distant voice chimed. Sherlock led the now-dazed Harry out of the booth, meeting with the hum of the atrium.

"You need to watch your step, seriously. You're going to end up with brain damage at this rate," Sherlock playfully admonished.

Unfazed, Harry registered the successive collision and allowed suspicion to surface. Though he felt inclined to believe it was a mere series of clumsy coincidences, he followed Sherlock across the buzzing atrium.

For the governing body of the British wizarding world, the Ministry bore an impressive façade. A conduit of rich, golden lights bounced off the polished surfaces and onto a stunning, fountain-adorned pool. Larger than life statues stood tall; a wizard, pointing his wand heavenwards, was accented by a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf, all looking up in awe.

Sherlock pondered on the symbolism of the statues while their wands were checked. Apart from feeding the ego of wizards, he deduced them to have no substantial purpose. In fact, their existence was a veritable slap in the face to the sanctity of the centaurs and goblins. If Sherlock were either of those, he'd never set foot inside the Ministry.

It's no wonder the Centaur Liaison Office had been set up for so many years without seeing a single centaur, and the same went for the goblins, who only submitted themselves after the unsuccessful rebellion.

With their wands registered, they stepped inside the Ministry's elevator teeming with paper airplanes zipping in and out, each closer to hitting Harry's forehead than the other.

"They're memos used by the Ministry personnel for internal communication," Sherlock enlightened, recalling those notes scrawled in the margins of the diary he'd acquired.

Embarking the elevator at the second floor, Harry and Sherlock emerged into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As they were walking Harry finally asked the question he'd been thinking about the whole here.

"What case are we here to assist with, Professor?"

Sherlock's response was chilling, "We are here to look into a series of mysterious murders."

Harry's breath hitched and he chose silence over pressing the issue. Rounding a corner, they found themselves before a door marked 'Case Investigation Room'. Before Sherlock could initiate a knock, a creature emerged from within. It wore a cloak which looked like it had been soaked rotten in water and an aura of death and despair enveloped it.

Sherlock frowned as he moved his gaze onto the lifeless creature next to him. Harry's skin crawled at the sight of the Dementor, especially given his past trauma.

"Ah, Sherlock, you're here," Kingsley said, his face showing a surprised expression.

Though the aura emitted from the Dementor made Sherlockuncomfortable, it didn't affect him much, so he simply nodded.

"This is?" Sherlock asked.

"The leader of the Dementors, he came out of Azkaban this time to assist us in the investigation," Kingsley explained.

Before Harry could process his panic, Harry, who had been looking at the lifeless creature, felt like he was being suffocated in ice-cold water. He saw the creature's rotting hands, he felt the cold aura continually enveloped him, turning everything before him into shades of gray. Harry started breathing rapidly, his breaths growing louder, and he felt like the entire world was spinning.

"Thud!"

A heavy sound echoed, and Harry's eyes rolled back as he fell backward, unconscious on the ground.

Kingsley, horrorstruck and dread-filled, quickly moved to aid Harry. Sherlock, equally as shocked, belatedly gave the Dementor a distasteful look.

Once Harry was comfortably situated in the Auror Headquarters, under the care of Tonks, who was still in training, Sherlock and Kingsley returned back to their conversation.

"Why did you bring him here?" Kingsley asked with a furrowed brow.

"I was going to celebrate his birthday before 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," Sherlock explained.

"Sorry, that's my fault," Kingsley said with self-blame, then he looked toward the Dementor.

"You go ahead. Make sure to control your kind. If there are any proven Dementor attacks, the Ministry will not let it go easily."

The Dementor didn't respond and seemed to glance at the unconscious Harry before leaving the corridor aimlessly.

"I assume you've already heard about Black's escape from Azkaban? It's been on the front cover of the Daily Prophet over and over again.." Kingsley started explaining the reason he called Sherlock here on the way.

"Well fter Black escaped, the Dementors were furious. It's the first time someone has ever escaped from the prison and it seems they felt kind of disgraced and so they started leaving the prison in large numbers to search for Black, which Fudge didn't seem to oppose."

"But since the Dementors left the prison, six mysterious deaths occurred in total."

"The first five were attacks on Muggles. The cause of death was always the same, their bodies were still alive, but their souls had been sucked out."

"The Ministry was too focused on Black's escape, so they didn't pay much attention, after all they don't care that much about a Muggle dying unless it could break the secrecy."

"But yesterday, a wizard died in the same manner as the previous five Muggles. That's when Scrimgeour started taking it seriously and ordered the leader of the Dementors to meet us here at the Ministry."

"The deaths and the condition of the victims matched the effects of a Dementor's kiss, so of course we suspected the Dementors were behind it, besides you know, they've never been trustworthy, but especially now since they left that prison."

"But the leader of the Dementors claims that they were not involved in any of the six attacks. According to him, they sense that something terrifying has landed in Great Britain, and that this something has devoured the souls of the deceased."

"Soul-eating creatures are already extremely rare, so we're at a loss what else could have done this, which is where you come in."

"You've always been an expert in dark magic defense. Back then at the Ministry, your research on Dementors was quite in-depth. So, I thought of asking you to come and help take a look, to see if you can discover anything."

Sherlock learned the entire process from Kingsley and then entered the investigation room with him. The room was empty, with only six beds, each holding a body.

No, they couldn't be called bodies, because these individuals could still breathe and had heartbeats, but they behaved as if they were dead—motionless, with terrified and grotesque expressions, and eyes that held only a dull emptiness.

For over a year, Sherlock had been focusing most on the field that the original owner had delved into—dark magic defense.

This included the two books he wrote and published, "Guide to Identifying Dark Creatures" and "Defensive Spells." Sherlock was well-versed in these subjects, having delved deeply into his studies.

Among them, the "Guide to Identifying Dark Creatures" included specialized research on Dementors. Because Dementors, fundamentally, were the darkest creatures in this world.

If there were a way to eradicate them or drive them away, the Ministry of Magic wouldn't have compromised. Indeed, making them Azkaban prison guards was a compromise in itself.

Sherlock walked up to a living dead person, lightly tapping his body with his wand, while Kingsley introduced the person's information beside him.

"John Nelson, from Norwich, found dead in an alley five days ago. Williamson and I arrived at the scene immediately. Later, the Ministry took his body from the Muggle government."

After a series of tests, Sherlock's expression gradually grew serious.

"His soul was indeed consumed, but not by the kiss of a Dementor."

"A Dementor's kiss targets human emotions, primarily siphoning positive emotions. Such as happiness, hope, and the desire to live. Once these emotions are completely devoured, the soul is utterly destroyed, leaving only endless despair and ashes."

"But these people are different."

Sherlock pointed to the Muggle named Nelson, with a face twisted in fear.

"He experienced immense fear before he died, to the point where he could think of nothing else but fear. Then, when his fear reached its climax, something relished in devouring his soul."

"Soul is the main course, fear is the seasoning. This creature is unlike any Dementor I've heard of, it feels like it's preparing its meals before savoring them."

After listening to Sherlock's words, Kingsley looked at the six living dead people and suddenly felt a shiver down his spine.

"What kind of creature would do such a thing?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"I don't know. Among the known dark magical creatures, none fit this description."

"Like you said, creatures that feed on souls are already extremely rare, let alone adding a touch of seasoning before consuming the soul. This is the first time I've heard of such a thing."

Kingsley furrowed his brows deeply, crossing his arms uneasily.

"The breakout at Azkaban already threw the Ministry into chaos, and now this has happened. The Aurors' manpower is running thin."

Sherlock sighed and shook his head.

"You don't need to worry about such matters. That's Scrimgeour's concern, he's the Head of the Auror Office after all."

Kingsley nodded heavily, just as he was about to express his gratitude to Sherlock, he suddenly remembered that today's Sherlock seemed somewhat different from the one he knew. He looked at Sherlock in surprise, examining him up and down before speaking.

"Teaching at Hogwarts for a year seems to have changed you."

Sherlock shrugged. "What's the point of staying the same forever? If you knew what I went through at the end of this year's term, you wouldn't be surprised by my changes."

"Regarding the Chamber of Secrets and your fight with the Basilisk?" Kingsley had clearly been following the events at Hogwarts.

"Exactly, that." Sherlock said with a touch of melancholy. "The time I almost experienced death."

Kingsley looked at the current Sherlock and involuntarily smiled.

"I think you've changed for the better."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"So, do we need to get to know each other again?"

Kingsley extended a hand with a smile on his face.

"Hello, I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Sherlock also smiled and shook the hand he offered.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Sherlock Forester."