Chapter 16: The Close-Combat Sorcerer

Although they had only known each other for a short time, Ron had already come to consider Harry a friend. Moreover, since Malfoy had not only offended Harry but also insulted Sherlock and himself, Ron naturally felt compelled to step up.

Harry fixed a cold stare on Malfoy. “Say that again.”

Though shy and averse to conflict by nature, Harry’s parents were his sacred boundary—no insult against them was ever to be tolerated.

“Oh, you want to fight, is that it?” Malfoy was somewhat surprised by Harry and Ron’s courage, but glancing at Crabbe and Goyle beside him, he sneered coldly.

His gaze flickered to Sherlock, who had not stood with Harry and Ron, his expression dripping with disdain.

Mudbloods were just that—mudbloods, utterly lacking in courage. Though the Weasleys were a disgrace to purebloods, they were still far superior to these.

By now, Goyle and Crabbe had doggedly approached, looking down on the three boys from above.

In truth, Harry’s outward bravery belied his inner fear. Crabbe and Goyle were much bigger than Harry and Ron, so both boys were holding on with nothing but bravado.

Being children, their faint nervousness was immediately detected by Goyle and Crabbe, whose contempt only deepened.

As for Sherlock, like Malfoy, he was not taken seriously.

A timid mudblood was utterly insignificant.

Seeing Harry and Ron bluffing and Sherlock’s timidity, Goyle was the first to act.

He reached out his wicked hand toward the Chocolate Frog beside Ron.

“These treats look good, but now they’re mine!”

“Let go!”

The mention of food finally helped Ron overcome his fear as he lunged forward.

But before he could reach Goyle, the latter easily shoved him down.

Seeing this, Harry was stunned.

At this moment, Goyle, towering two heads above him, reminded Harry of his cousin Dudley, who had bullied him since childhood.

He wanted to do something, but the psychological shadow cast by years of bullying rendered his body unresponsive.

Just as Goyle laughed and was about to tear open the packaging, a thought blossomed in Harry’s mind:

I was bullied before coming to Hogwarts, and now I’m still being bullied—did I come here for nothing?

Just as Harry was on the brink of despair, Goyle suddenly let out a shriek.

A strong hand gripped his wrist tightly.

Goyle shouted and struggled to break free, but the hand, though small, held his wrist like a steel clamp.

“I said, you guys…”

Sherlock, who had been ignored by Malfoy and his cronies, slowly rose to his feet.

He clasped Goyle’s wrist, his face showing a hint of helplessness.

“Shouldn’t you ask before taking someone else’s things?”

Goyle bent over in pain.

Sherlock, already tall, stood upright, reversing the power dynamic as he looked down at Goyle.

“Sherlock!”

Harry couldn’t help but exclaim, his voice full of joy.

In that moment, Sherlock’s figure seemed immeasurably grand in Harry’s eyes.

Ron scrambled to his feet, his gaze toward Sherlock filled with delight.

A true protector!

“Let go of him!”

Crabbe finally reacted and charged at Sherlock.

“Watch out!”

Harry overcame his fear and prepared to help.

But before he could move, the situation changed.

Facing the charging Crabbe, Sherlock nodded, “Alright.”

Then he released Goyle’s wrist.

Goyle immediately fell to the ground.

But before his body hit the floor, Sherlock delivered a quick, fierce uppercut to his chin.

At the same time, Crabbe rushed forward.

Sherlock casually extended his leg.

“Thud!”

Crabbe collapsed face-first.

Without missing a beat, Sherlock retracted his punching hand and delivered another blow to Crabbe.

Goyle and Crabbe immediately clutched their heads, wailing in pain.

Though strong for their age, at only eleven, their resilience was limited.

Especially against a professional like Sherlock.

Sherlock then turned his gaze to Malfoy, whose face had drained of color as he retreated rapidly.

He offered Malfoy a friendly smile.

“Mr. Malfoy of the pureblood family, care to try your hand too?”

To Malfoy, Sherlock’s smile was like a demon’s.

He had never imagined one man alone could utterly crush Goyle and Crabbe.

No, “crush” was more accurate than “defeat.”

This fellow was hardly a wizard!

Malfoy’s arrogance vanished as he backed away hastily, fleeing the compartment.

Crabbe and Goyle followed suit, tumbling and scrambling out.

Sherlock made no move to stop them.

Harry and Ron looked at Sherlock with admiration.

That earlier thought returned to Harry’s mind once more—if only he could stay by Sherlock’s side.

“That was amazing, Sherlock. How did you do that?”

“They’re just too weak,” Sherlock said without a hint of pride. “My family used to hire tutors to teach me a bit of fencing and boxing.”

“Boxing?”

“Fencing?”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, picturing Sherlock wielding his wand like a sword in close combat.

A melee wizard? Strange indeed!

“Is ‘mudblood’ an insult?”

Sherlock suddenly interrupted their thoughts.

Harry looked at Ron, puzzled.

Ron hesitated, still recovering from the shock, then explained in a low voice:

“It’s a highly offensive slur against Muggle-borns, very unpleasant. Only evil, hopeless, and utterly despicable dark wizards use that term.”

“I see…”

Sherlock’s eyes grew thoughtful. “Is Malfoy that kind of person?”

“Not quite.”

Ron disliked Malfoy and his family but didn’t think they were that bad.

He added, “That sort of language is more common among those Slytherins—Malfoy’s probably going to be sorted into Slytherin.”

After a moment’s thought, Sherlock said, “Ron, I have two questions.”