1987, a bitmap file format called GIF was born.
This new format made it possible to display moving pictures, working much like the portraits in Chocolate Frogs.
In 1989, a version update to the GIF format truly brought animation capabilities.
In that respect, it was actually more advanced than the moving portraits in the wizarding world.
Sherlock’s explanation left Harry and Ron once again amazed at his vast knowledge.
They exchanged a look, feeling that this first-year, just like them, seemed to know everything.
That was just a small aside.
In any case, the Chocolate Frogs gave Sherlock and Harry not only Dumbledore but, after some swaps, also cards of Morgan le Fay, Hengist, Alberic, Sise, Palacin, and Merlin.
They even got lucky enough to each pull an SSR rare card—Zou Yan and Kong Bo from China.
The former was active in the 4th century BC during the Warring States period and was a famous alchemist.
The latter was a fifteenth-century dragonologist who discovered the uses of Chinese Fireball dragon egg powder.
Ron was extremely envious.
These cards were hard currency among Hogwarts students; some rare ones could even be traded for a week’s worth of homework.
His own Kong Bo card had been given to him by his older brother Charlie, who studied dragons in Romania.
As for Zou Yan, his brother had traded it away.
Upon hearing this, Sherlock wore a thoughtful expression.
It seemed that in this respect, a magic school wasn’t much different from a regular one.
Next, Ron warned Sherlock and Harry about another snack: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.
“Every flavor” meant exactly that—all kinds of flavors were available.
Not only chocolate, peppermint, marmalade, and other traditional candy flavors, but also flavors that weren’t food at all, like leather, paint, and dirt.
Worse still, you might get something like boogers, earwax, or other… stimulating tastes.
Sherlock thought for a moment and realized that with technological development, the non-magical world could probably achieve the same.
But it really wasn’t necessary.
Still, from his conversation with Ron, he found that the intersection of magic and science was indeed quite interesting.
Just as Harry mustered the courage to lick a strange gray bean that even Ron didn’t dare touch, the compartment door slid open again.
This time, three boys appeared in front of Sherlock.
The one in the middle had light blond hair, regular features, a sharp chin, and a slightly pale complexion.
Flanking him were two stout, ugly fat kids—one tall, one short—who, despite their appearance, were quite solid and muscular.
They seemed to guard the boy like bodyguards.
Against their backdrop, the middle boy actually looked decent, and his pale face no longer seemed so sickly.
Like Sherlock, he had gray eyes.
Sherlock only needed one glance to guess his identity—the Malfoy family.
Like the Weasleys, hair was a defining trait of the Malfoys, except the Weasleys had red hair and the Malfoys had light blond.
Moreover, the Malfoy family, like the Weasleys, belonged to the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families.
But Sherlock wasn’t the only one who recognized the Malfoy boy.
Noticing Harry and Ron’s expressions, Sherlock was a little surprised and looked at Harry.
“You know him?” It wasn’t strange that Ron knew Malfoy—their families ran in the same circles.
But Harry shouldn’t have crossed paths with him.
Harry was also a bit bewildered; he didn’t understand how Sherlock had guessed that, but he nodded anyway.
He did recognize the pale, light-blond boy.
They had met briefly at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions in Diagon Alley while getting fitted for robes.
Harry hadn’t liked him much then—his arrogant tone and his disdain for Hagrid.
After all, Hagrid was Harry’s first real friend in all those years.
By now the boy was already speaking.
“Everyone on the train is talking about Harry Potter being in this compartment.” He obviously recognized Harry from their earlier meeting and stared at him with much more interest than he’d shown in Diagon Alley.
“So it’s you, isn’t it?” Harry nodded instinctively.
Since the boy was an acquaintance of Harry’s, Sherlock decided not to get involved.
But after scanning the compartment, the boy’s gaze landed on Sherlock, and he said contemptuously, “It’s a shame that the famous Harry Potter would sit with a stinking Mudblood.” Ron’s expression immediately changed.
Malfoy continued his introduction.
“I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.
This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle.
I came here to—” Before he could finish, a cold laugh rang out—from Ron.
Malfoy spun around, his eyes fixed on Ron, his disgust completely undisguised.
“You think that’s funny, do you?
I don’t need to ask to know who you are.
Red hair, old robes, freckles, and too many children to support.
My father told me all Weasleys are like that—a disgrace to pure-blood.” Ron was furious.
Sherlock had said something similar earlier, but coming from Malfoy, the same words felt completely different.
Ron thought about it and decided that Sherlock had described his old robes and second-hand wand in a flat, factual tone, whereas Malfoy was purely mocking.
But before Ron could explode in anger, Malfoy turned back to Harry, forcing a smile and extending a hand.
“You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter.
You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort—or lowly Mudbloods, do you?
I can help you there.” It was clear Malfoy was trying hard to be friendly to Harry.
Unfortunately, the upbringing that taught him to be friendly also made him condescending and arrogant.
If Hermione wore her pride on her lips, Malfoy wore his on his face.
More importantly, he had just insulted Harry’s two new friends.
So his overture was doomed.
Harry, who already disliked him, wasn’t about to indulge him.
He said coldly, “No thanks.
I think I can tell who the wrong sort is myself.” The smile on Malfoy’s face froze.
Having been publicly slapped down, his pale cheeks flushed faintly pink.
He withdrew his hand, left hanging in midair, and said slowly, “Potter, if I were you, I’d be careful.
Or you might end up the same way as your parents.
They didn’t know their place, hanging out with riffraff like the Weasleys or Hagrid, and it influenced them.” The moment Malfoy finished, Harry stood up.
Ron rose without a word, his face as red as his hair.