Chapter 11: The Green Light

"Actually, deducing all of this is quite simple..."

Sherlock pointed to Harry's glasses as he explained, "No normal family would let you start a new school wearing a pair of glasses that are broken and held together with layers of tape. Your clothes are neat, which shows you have good habits, but they are outdated in style and clearly ill-fitting—hanging loosely on you and far too large for your frame—so I suspect they are hand-me-downs from your 'cousin.'

"That old trunk beside you is covered in dents and scuffs, with clear marks of age, indicating it has been in service for many years. Since he is your cousin, your relatives must be an aunt or uncle. According to 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts' and 'Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century,' you only have your mother's sister left as a relative, so I deduce you must be living with your aunt and uncle. Based on these facts, it's easy to infer how they treat you..."

"What are you saying? The books mention me?" Harry asked, looking incredulous.

Sherlock stared at him. "It seems you haven't been reading properly—in fact, I know almost everything about you."

The shock on Harry's face deepened. Sherlock offered him a smile: "It’s not just those two books; you are also mentioned in 'A History of Magic' by Bathilda Bagshot, which is on the required reading list for first-year students."

Harry suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. He steadied himself and couldn't help but ask, "Then... how did you know that Uncle Vernon was the one who brought me here today?"

"I was just about to get to that—if I hadn't been interrupted."

"Oh, sorry." Harry apologized quickly, feeling as though he always ended up messing things up without meaning to.

"It's fine, as long as you don't interrupt me again. There is a mark on the bottom right corner of your loose jacket from being caught in a car door. As for why I can distinguish that it was a car door and not something else, it is because different angles and magnitudes of force produce different effects; clearly, this mark was caused by the right-hand door of an automobile. From your manner of speech and what you said about your attire, I can see you are a disciplined person, so you shouldn't have been late today, yet you were. You couldn't lift your trunk on your own just now, and coupled with your description of that terrible relative, it isn't hard to judge his actions. He was never willing to bring you here; he only brought you to the station to make a fool of you. For someone coming here for the first time, without keen observation, it is difficult to discover that Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is located between platforms nine and ten. My apologies, but based on my observations, you do not yet possess such skills, so it is only possible that you arrived here with someone else's help."

Sherlock spoke rapidly, at roughly twice the speed of a normal person. He felt there was truly no need to analyze these things. Although the amount of information seemed vast, the evidence was as obvious as ink spilled on a blank sheet of paper.

Of course, there were some things he didn't mention—such as the fact that he had spotted Harry as soon as he entered the platform and had already deduced exactly who had helped him get through.

After Sherlock finished speaking, it took Harry several minutes to fully grasp the meaning of it all. He couldn't help but blurt out, "That was brilliant!"

Sherlock shrugged; he truly didn't feel this small talent was worth showing off or praising. His demeanor only made Harry admire him more.

Just as Harry was about to say something else to express his admiration, the sliding door of the compartment suddenly opened, and a head with red hair poked in.

"Excuse me, everywhere else is full. Can I sit here?"

Harry immediately looked at Sherlock. The red-haired boy's gaze followed Harry's toward Sherlock.

"Of course you can, Mr. Ron Weasley."

"Thanks." The redhead replied. As he pushed his trunk into the compartment, he suddenly reacted, asking with a look of surprise: "Wait, how—how do you know who I am?"

"If you wanted to keep your name a secret," Sherlock said, gesturing while noting that Harry was looking at him with equal curiosity, "I would advise you not to hang a name tag on your trunk in the future, or at least, don't face the tag toward others when you are speaking to them."

The red-haired boy looked down and froze. He had even forgotten about that himself. This person... he seemed quite formidable.

Seeing the expression on the red-haired boy, Harry felt much more balanced. It turned out he wasn't slow; it was just that Sherlock was too sharp. While Harry was secretly relieved, the boy sat down next to him. He had chosen to sit by Harry mainly because he felt the aura Sherlock exuded was a bit too intense.

Facing Sherlock, Ron's performance was no better than Harry's had been; he was equally nervous. In this situation, Sherlock naturally held the absolute initiative. He was also somewhat interested in Ron. According to records, the Weasley family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, having a long and storied history in the wizarding world. Red hair was the signature trait of their family. The so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight referred to those wizarding families that possessed pure or near-pure wizarding blood. This was also a piece of knowledge introduced in 'A History of Magic.'

He had originally intended to use Harry as his entry point for understanding the magical world. However, from his brief contact with Harry, it appeared that Harry Potter, having grown up in a Muggle household, knew even less about the magical world than he did after only a month of reading.

In this case, Ron, coming from a family like the Weasleys, was actually a much more suitable candidate.

"I am Sherlock Holmes. Just call me Sherlock." After introducing himself, Sherlock pointed a finger. "He is Harry Potter."

He stopped after saying that, as he had already guessed Ron's reaction. Ron did not disappoint him.

"Harry Potter? Wait, you said he's Harry Potter! The Harry Potter?!"

Ron's voice rose sharply. He realized it wasn't appropriate and immediately lowered his voice, looking at Harry in disbelief. "You're really that Harry Potter?"

Ron stared intently at Harry. Clearly, this fact brought him more shock than Sherlock's ability to deduce his identity.

Noticing that Harry was turning redder under Ron's gaze and couldn't get a word out, Sherlock simply answered the question for him: "Obviously."

This caused both Harry and Ron to breathe a sigh of relief. Harry gave Sherlock a look of gratitude.

"It's just unbelievable. I'm actually in the same compartment as Harry Potter."

Although he had already learned through books that Harry had significant influence, this was the first time Sherlock had seen it verified in reality.

Things were getting more and more interesting.

At this moment, Harry lifted the hair on his forehead to show the scar to Sherlock and Ron.

Ron's eyes widened in surprise: "Is that what You-Know-Who did?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, "but I don't remember it anymore."

Ron asked again, eagerly: "You don't remember it at all?"

"Well—I only remember a lot of green light, nothing else."

"Green light? What's that?"

"I don't know."

"..."