After Sherlock finished explaining his reasoning in one breath, Harry and Ron stood stunned, mouths agape.
A moment later, Harry—who had already witnessed Sherlock’s abilities before—was the first to recover.
“Brilliant!
Sherlock, that’s unbelievable!
When you lay it out like that, it all seems so obvious.” “See?
I knew you’d say that, my dear Harry.” Sherlock shrugged, then turned to Ron and offered earnest advice.
“If you can manage it, you really should get a replacement.
Secondhand books and robes are fine, but a wand needs to suit its owner.
Otherwise, it will hinder your spellwork and casting.” Ron flushed red.
“It’s fine.
It’s a bit old, but my brother’s wand works well enough.” Sherlock understood.
No money.
Full of admiration for Sherlock’s skill, Harry and Ron shifted the conversation to ask him about it in earnest.
Only then did the two learn that Sherlock called this method “the science of deduction.” It was an approach built on observation, analysis, and logical reasoning—sharply capturing details, then applying knowledge and logic to deduce conclusions about events, people, and more.
Mastering it required broad knowledge, painstaking observation, and a seamless blend of induction and deduction.
Although Sherlock claimed anyone could do it with enough training, Harry and Ron shook their heads repeatedly.
You had to be joking—something like this was clearly a gift.
You couldn’t just learn it!
Still, that didn’t stop the three of them from chatting away.
Just as the conversation grew lively, someone knocked on the compartment door.
Two young wizards appeared before them.
Sherlock happened to recognize both.
One was a young boy with a round face.
He was actually one of the people Sherlock had deduced things about while waiting at the station.
Sherlock’s deduction at the time had been: [First-year student; parents absent for unknown reasons; raised by grandmother; forgetful, timid, lacks confidence].
Right now, seeing tears streaming down his face, even without Sherlock’s analysis, Harry and Ron could tell he was heartbroken and deeply distressed.
The other was a girl with bushy brown hair, slightly large front teeth, and a haughty expression.
It was Hermione Granger, whom Sherlock had met outside the Leaky Cauldron before term started.
Unlike Sherlock and the other two, Hermione was already wearing her fresh new school robes.
“Has anyone seen a toad?
Longbottom’s lost one.” It had to be said that her tone, paired with her expression, made her come across as rather bossy and condescending.
Harry didn’t mind too much, but Ron immediately scowled.
Just then, Hermione heard a familiar voice: “We haven’t seen a toad, Miss Granger.” Harry and Ron turned to look at Sherlock in shock.
Ron couldn’t help asking, “Wait!
How did you deduce it this time?
She isn’t carrying a trunk!” He tried to observe Hermione like Sherlock did, searching her for any tiny clues that might reveal her identity.
Naturally, it was in vain.
Sherlock shook his head.
“We’ve met before.” Ah, so they already knew each other.
That explanation came as a relief to Harry and Ron.
They had almost thought Sherlock had deduced the girl’s entire identity at a glance again, which would have been a bit too absurd.
Seeing Sherlock, whom she had met once before, Hermione was also quite surprised.
Unlike Harry and Ron, she was naturally extroverted; it was only because Sherlock’s initial impression had stunned her so completely that she had seemed shy back then.
Now that a month had passed, she was back to her usual self and couldn’t help exclaiming, “Holmes!
What are you doing here?” With that, she sat down in the empty seat next to Sherlock.
Not only Harry and Ron, but even Sherlock was taken aback by her move.
He was slightly perplexed—were he and Hermione really that familiar?
They had only met once.
But that was only the beginning.
Hermione’s next display truly showed the three of them what a supreme extrovert looked like.
“Oh, right!
I was going to call you, but I got so busy I forgot—have you finished reading all the textbooks?” Facing Hermione’s greeting, which sounded like that of an old friend, Sherlock nodded.
“I have.” “I knew it!” Hermione’s eyes lit up, and she launched into a torrent of words.
“Have you tried any spells?
I tried a few simple ones at home just for practice, and they all worked!
Oh, and I forgot to tell you last time—nobody in my family is magical at all, so I was terrified when I got my letter, but so happy, of course.
It’s the best school of witchcraft there is, as far as I know!
I’ve learned all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough…” Once she started, she couldn’t stop, chattering endlessly.
Just like when they saw Neville, even without Sherlock’s deduction, Harry and Ron could already tell what kind of person this girl was.
*No matter which house I get sorted into, I just hope I’m not in the same one as her,* Ron thought privately.
But right then, Hermione turned her gaze to the wand in Ron’s hand, which he hadn’t had time to put away.
“Oh, are you doing magic?
Let’s see it then.” Ron suddenly felt completely lost.
His spell hadn’t worked just now.
Making a fool of himself in front of Sherlock and Harry was one thing—in Ron’s mind, those two were already on his side—but in front of Granger and Longbottom…
Glancing at the teary-eyed round-faced boy, then at the girl staring intently at him, Ron instinctively shot a pleading look at Sherlock.
At the same time, Harry was also looking at Sherlock with hopeful eyes.
*Boss, save us!* Sherlock caught the meaning in their eyes.
“Ron’s wand has a slight issue.
Let me,” Sherlock said.
He drew his wand, gave it a light flick toward Harry’s glasses, and said, “*Reparo*.” A series of soft clicking sounds echoed as Harry’s battered glasses, mended with tape many times over, transformed into a brand-new pair before everyone’s eyes.
Harry was utterly stunned.
He took off the glasses in disbelief, inspecting them closely.
Ron leaned over as well, and the two were shocked to find the glasses looked as if they had just left the factory—completely restored.
Hermione looked at Sherlock in surprise too.
The Repairing Charm could fix broken items and restore them to their original state.
Hermione could perform it herself, but she could see that Sherlock’s proficiency was even higher than her own.
Coupled with how he had deduced her parents were doctors at a glance outside the Leaky Cauldron, a sudden wave of competitive alarm washed over the star student.
Hermione cleared her throat, about to offer a critique of Sherlock’s spellwork, when her peripheral vision caught the scar on Harry’s forehead after he took off his glasses.
She gasped in surprise, “Are you Harry Potter?
The boy who killed Voldemort?” Harry froze for a moment before answering, “That’s him…
er, I mean, I am.
But Voldemort isn’t dead.
He’s probably still alive…” Sherlock frowned.
This touched upon a blind spot in his knowledge.
“Harry, you say Voldemort is still alive?” “Yes, Hagrid told me.
Even though he’s too weak to amount to anything now, he might not be dead.” And so, Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione discussed Voldemort completely out loud and unbothered, while beside them, Ron and Neville shuddered in silent terror.