Chapter 23: You possess great talent; come learn boxing from me.

When Dumbledore suggested singing the school anthem together, the other teachers wore expressions that were, to put it mildly, unnatural.

Sherlock instinctively felt that something was amiss. He soon understood why. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a long golden ribbon soared above the dining tables, twisting into lines of text.

These were the lyrics. Then...

"Everyone, choose your favorite tune. Ready, sing!"

All the first-years: "???"

This was allowed?

As it turned out, it was. Amidst a cacophony of clashing melodies, the students and faculty finished the anthem in a disjointed mess that lacked any semblance of artistic beauty. Most absurd of all were the Weasley twins, who sang to the slow, somber rhythm of a funeral march. Dumbledore, far from reprimanding them, patiently conducted the final few bars with his wand and applauded more loudly than anyone else when they finished.

Sherlock: (￣.￣)

It seemed he really would have to find a way to get a violin.

After the sorting, the speeches, the feast, and the singing, the Hogwarts opening ceremony officially concluded, and the students began their return to the dormitories. The scene instantly became chaotic. At this point, the prefects of each house took charge, maintaining order and guiding their students—especially the newcomers—back to their respective quarters.

The young lions, led by Percy, wove through the noisy crowd, exited the Great Hall, and ascended the marble staircase. Compared to the other exhausted first-years, Sherlock remained remarkably energetic. His gray eyes sparkled as he scrutinized everything around him. There were simply too many novelties here; even Sherlock found it hard to take it all in.

The portraits hanging in the corridors were living, breathing entities that pointed and whispered at the new students as they passed. Doors were hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, invisible to the untrained eye without Percy’s guidance. An invisible poltergeist named Peeves grabbed his walking stick to torment them, only to be scared off when Percy invoked the name of the Bloody Baron. Eventually, they reached the end of a corridor where a portrait of a stout woman asked, "Password?"

Percy replied, "Caput Draconis." The Fat Lady swung forward, revealing a circular hole in the wall. One by one, they climbed through into the Gryffindor common room.

Percy directed the boys and girls to their separate dormitories and informed the first-years that their schedules would be distributed at breakfast, reminding them not to forget to go to the Great Hall on time. Based on his performance today, Percy was, by all accounts, a very competent prefect.

Compared to the bright-eyed Sherlock, Harry and Ron were so sleepy they could barely stand, relying on Sherlock to lead them to their dormitory. Fortunately, the three of them had been assigned the same room. Their other two roommates were Neville Longbottom, a round-faced boy who had lost and found his toad on the train, and a Black boy named Dean Thomas.

Seeing that their trunks had already been delivered, Sherlock decided to take a quick look around the common room. Gryffindor’s aesthetic was quite pleasing. The circular room felt cozy overall, with warm, dominant red tones on the walls and plush armchairs that made one loath to ever stand up again. Sherlock had intended to start exploring, but the temperature was a bit low. Though his physical condition was decent, he had only just recovered from a serious illness and found it difficult to withstand the chill. He managed only to gather a few pieces of information: the Gryffindor tower was on the east side of the castle, and the common room was on the eighth floor.

When Sherlock returned to the dormitory, he found his four roommates already fast asleep. Of the five four-poster beds, four were draped in closed crimson velvet curtains. The one left for him was situated right between Harry and Ron.

"Seems decent enough," Sherlock remarked, before changing into his pajamas and lying down.

It had been a busy day. He hadn't felt it while exploring, but the moment he lay down, exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave. Sherlock drifted off to sleep quickly.

The night passed without incident.

The next morning, Sherlock opened his eyes to find his four roommates still fast asleep. He hadn't intended to wake them, but the sound of his movement caused Harry to wake up instantly. Having grown up with the Dursleys, Harry had developed the habit of waking at the slightest disturbance. Seeing his self-appointed "big brother" fully dressed and ready to go, Harry scrambled out of bed and asked, "Sherlock, where are you going?"

When he heard Sherlock mention morning exercise, Harry hesitated for a moment before deciding to join him.

"A wise decision," Sherlock said with satisfaction. "A healthy body and a clear mind are the prerequisites for solving any mystery."

Harry nodded repeatedly; he had realized the truth of this more and more since meeting Sherlock. He tried to rouse Ron as well, but Ron possessed neither Sherlock’s self-discipline nor Harry’s determination to follow him, so after a firm refusal, he went right back to sleep.

Ultimately, Sherlock left the dormitory with Harry, beginning his first exploration of Hogwarts. During their morning training, Sherlock was surprised to find that the Savior of the Wizarding World had potential. Due to his upbringing—living for years in a dark, cramped cupboard and never being properly fed—Harry was smaller and thinner than his peers. His gaunt face, knobby knees, and messy black hair, combined with his green eyes, were his most prominent features. The round-framed glasses, previously held together by bits of tape, had been repaired by Sherlock using magic. He was now wearing robes that actually fit him; otherwise, in his old Dudley hand-me-downs, he would have looked even more frail.

However, despite his slight frame, Harry was agile and quick-witted—a natural athlete. With proper training, he was sure to accomplish great things. Given this, Sherlock issued an invitation:

"You have talent. Learn to spar with me!"

Harry: ’(°ー°〃)

In the end, Harry did not agree to Sherlock’s proposal. Although he thought fighting sounded cool, the idea of a wizard engaging in hand-to-hand combat felt just a bit too bizarre. Sherlock couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. According to his plans, he would need one or two assistants at Hogwarts. He had been enjoying Harry’s company and had hoped to mold him, but he hadn't expected a refusal.

After their morning exercise, Sherlock and Harry headed to the Great Hall, where the hungry Ron, round-faced Neville, and Dean Thomas were already waiting.