When Dumbledore suggested singing the school song together, every teacher’s expression—except for Dumbledore’s own—turned somewhat unnatural.
Sherlock instinctively sensed that something was off.
He soon understood why.
With a flick of Dumbledore’s wand, a golden ribbon unfurled above the dining tables, twisting into lines of text.
The lyrics.
And then…
“Pick your favorite tune!
Ready, sing!” All the first-years stood frozen: *…Is that even allowed?* As it turned out, it really was.
To completely different tunes, the teachers and students stumbled through the school song in a jumble of mismatched melodies, utterly devoid of artistic harmony.
The most absurd part was the Weasley twins, who sang to the slow, somber rhythm of the *Funeral March*.
Far from reprimanding them, Dumbledore patiently conducted their final few bars with his wand and clapped louder than anyone when they finished.
Sherlock was rendered entirely speechless.
It seemed he really needed to find a way to get himself a violin.
After the Sorting, the speech, the feast, and the song, the opening ceremony at Hogwarts officially ended, and the students began making their way back to their dormitories.
The hall instantly erupted into chaos.
At this point, the prefects of each house stepped up to maintain order, leading their students—especially the first-years—back to their quarters.
The young lions, led by Percy Weasley, wove through the noisy crowd, left the Great Hall, and climbed the marble staircase.
Compared to the other exhausted first-years, Sherlock was much more energetic.
His grey eyes sparkled as he carefully observed everything around him.
There were far too many novelties here, enough to keep even Sherlock thoroughly occupied.
The portraits hanging along the corridors were living creatures, whispering and pointing at the group of first-years, even chatting among themselves.
Doors were hidden behind sliding panels and hanging draperies; without Percy leading them, it would have been impossible to spot them from the outside.
An invisible poltergeist named Peeves grabbed a walking stick and tried to play tricks on them, but Percy scared him off simply by dropping the name of the Bloody Baron.
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, where a portrait of a plump woman in a pink silk dress hung.
She asked, “Password?” “Dragon dung,” Percy replied.
The Fat Lady swung open, revealing a round hole in the wall.
One by one, everyone crawled through the hole behind Percy.
This was the Gryffindor common room.
Percy directed the boys and girls to their respective dormitories and informed the first-years that their class schedules would be handed out at breakfast tomorrow, reminding everyone not to be late for meals in the Great Hall.
Judging by today’s performance alone, Percy was a remarkably responsible prefect.
In contrast to the energetic Sherlock, the two unfortunate brothers-in-arms, Harry and Ron, were so sleepy they could barely keep their eyes open.
They relied entirely on Sherlock to guide them to their room.
Fortunately, the three of them were assigned to the same dormitory.
Their other two roommates were Neville Longbottom, the 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 to the room, Sherlock decided to take a quick turn around the common room.
Gryffindor’s aesthetic was quite pleasant.
The circular room looked comfortable overall, with warm red tones on the walls and plush armchairs that made it hard to get up once seated.
Sherlock had originally intended to start exploring right away, but unfortunately, the temperature here was a bit low.
Although his physical condition was decent, he had just recovered from a severe illness and found it difficult to resist the cold’s toll on his body.
So in this brief moment, he only gathered a few key facts: Gryffindor Tower was located on the east side of the castle, and the common room was on the eighth floor.
When Sherlock returned to the dormitory, he found all four of his roommates already asleep.
There were five four-poster beds, and the deep red velvet curtains were already drawn around four of them.
The bed left for him happened to be between Harry and Ron.
“Looks decent enough,” Sherlock assessed before changing into his pajamas and lying down.
After a busy day, he hadn’t felt the fatigue while exploring, but the moment he laid his head down, sleepiness washed over him like a wave.
Sherlock quickly fell fast asleep.
The night passed without incident.
The next morning, when Sherlock opened his eyes, he saw his four roommates still snoring away.
He hadn’t intended to wake them, but the sound of him getting up jolted Harry awake instantly.
Growing up with the Dursleys had given Harry the habit of waking up at the slightest noise.
Seeing the big brother he planned to follow dressed and ready to go, Harry hastily rolled out of bed and asked, “Sherlock, where are you going?” When Sherlock told him he was going for a morning workout, Harry hesitated briefly 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 problem.” Harry nodded repeatedly.
Ever since meeting Sherlock, he had realized this truth more and more clearly.
Harry had even tried to persuade Ron to join them.
However, Ron possessed neither Sherlock’s self-discipline nor Harry’s determination to follow Sherlock.
After firmly refusing, he rolled over and went back to sleep.
In the end, Sherlock took Harry out of the dormitory to begin their first exploration of Hogwarts.
While taking Harry through his morning routine, Sherlock was surprised to find that this Savior of the wizarding world actually had some talent.
Due to Harry’s upbringing—living year-round in a dark, cramped cupboard under the stairs and never having enough to eat or drink—he appeared smaller and scrawnier than boys his age.
A gaunt face, knobby knees, untamable black hair, and bright green eyes were his most defining physical features.
His original round-framed glasses, bound together with layers of clear tape, had already been repaired by Sherlock using magic.
He was now wearing robes tailored to his size—otherwise, dressed in Dudley’s hand-me-downs, he would have looked even smaller than he actually was.
However…
Though Harry was thin, his movements were quick, his reactions sharp, and he was clearly built for agility.
If properly trained, he would surely achieve great things in the future.
Given this, Sherlock decisively extended an invitation: “You’re quite talented.
Learn boxing with me!” Harry stared at him, utterly bewildered.
In the end, Harry did not agree.
Although he had to admit that boxing looked pretty cool, wouldn’t it be a bit too weird for a wizard to resort to hand-to-hand combat?
Sherlock couldn’t help but feel a touch of regret.
According to his plans, he would need an assistant or two at Hogwarts.
Since he got along well with Harry, he had originally intended to train the boy properly.
Who would have thought he’d be turned down?
When morning practice ended, Sherlock and Harry headed to the Great Hall.
Ron the foodie, Neville with his round face, and Dean Thomas were already in position.