He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord Voldemort, had vanished.
All that remained was Harry Potter and the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.
To this day, no one knew the reason why.
Regardless, it was an indisputable fact that the Dark Lord who had terrorized the wizarding world had been defeated by an infant.
With that, the eleven-year Wizarding War came to an end, and the magical world was finally freed from darkness and terror.
Because of this, before he had even grown up, Harry Potter became a household hero, deeply revered as “the Boy Who Lived.” Some had even suggested designating the day Voldemort vanished as Harry Potter Day.
Of course, that proposal was never realized.
But that did not diminish Harry Potter’s special status in the magical world.
According to the rules of the magical world, Harry Potter—who was the same age as Sherlock—would also enroll in Hogwarts in the summer of 1991.
Without a doubt, compared to Hermione Granger, Harry Potter held far greater appeal for Sherlock.
So, after learning about this history through books, Sherlock made a decision.
Once school started, he would quickly approach Harry Potter and use this key figure as his breakthrough point to understand the magical world.
Sherlock had no doubt that if the world he lived in were a novel, then Harry Potter—if not the main protagonist—must at least be a crucial clue character.
As long as he stayed near him, all kinds of conflicts and incidents would surely deliver themselves straight to his door.
That would make understanding the entire magical world much more convenient.
Furthermore, compared to adults like Albus Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall, breaking ground through Harry would undoubtedly be much easier.
Of course, that was relative.
Given Harry Potter’s renown in the wizarding world, he would likely be surrounded like a star among moons at school.
There might even be a crowd of little fanboys and fangirls bustling around him, making it no easy feat to get close when the time came.
Yet the more challenging it seemed, the more enticing it became.
Finally, September first arrived.
On this day, Mr.
Holmes and Mrs.
Holmes accompanied Sherlock to King’s Cross Station.
Hogwarts was located in the Scottish Highlands—a deduction Sherlock had made, which Professor McGonagall had confirmed.
But traveling there via a train…
how should one put it?
As Mr.
Holmes jested, “Taking a train to a school for wizards is rather ridiculous.
Have they run out of magic carpets?” What the couple found even harder to comprehend was that the ticket indicated Sherlock was to catch the eleven o’clock train departing from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
As everyone knew, King’s Cross Station in London only had Platform Nine and Platform Ten; there was no such thing as Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall was a competent staff member.
While carefully explaining how to access Diagon Alley, she had also instructed Sherlock on how to find this seemingly nonexistent Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Ten o’clock, King’s Cross Station.
One platform bore a large plastic sign reading 9, and another bore a large plastic sign reading 10.
Naturally, there was nothing in between.
But Sherlock knew that Platform Nine and Three-Quarters lay behind the dividing wall between the two, requiring a special method to enter.
The moment of parting had arrived.
Mr.
Holmes kept smiling and waving at his son.
Mrs.
Holmes, however, turned away, her shoulders trembling—she clearly didn’t want to face this moment of farewell.
Being a sentimental person, such a reaction was hardly surprising for her.
Mr.
Holmes fully demonstrated his responsibility as head of the family; after bidding Sherlock goodbye once more, he tightly wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and led her away.
Sherlock watched his parents leave, in no rush to run at the wall.
He first reached out a hand curiously to touch it; it felt solid, not a magical illusion.
He knocked on the brickwork.
A *thump, thump, thump* sound came back, proving it was not hollow either.
Looking down, distinct footprints and cart tracks vanished straight into the wall.
Judging by the stride lengths, these people had moved with great force and urgency.
A slight smile touched the corner of Sherlock’s mouth.
Now, even without McGonagall’s instructions, he knew how to enter.
Sherlock guessed that wizards had deliberately designed this mechanism—requiring one to run briskly into the wall—to prevent non-wizards from stumbling in by light contact.
Nothing more needed to be said.
Face the wall, pick up the pace, and charge!
Sherlock didn’t close his eyes, yet he still felt a sudden darkness wash over him.
But it lasted only a brief instant.
Soon, his vision opened up dramatically.
Straight ahead were empty tracks and a platform crowded with passengers.
Looking back, the dividing wall had turned into a wrought-iron archway with a large sign reading Platform 9¾.
Intrigued.
Sherlock offered a genuine smile.
He had originally thought the owl letter was a prank.
He hadn’t expected it to be the key that opened the door to a whole new world.
Sherlock was certain that starting from this Platform Nine and Three-Quarters before him, he would not feel bored for a very long time.
Arriving a bit early, the Hogwarts train had not yet arrived.
Sherlock could only wait on this long platform.
He didn’t idle while waiting, either.
Instead, he observed these wizards one by one—the ones about to become his classmates—analyzing their pasts and backgrounds.
In this way, the long wait became anything but boring.
[First-year.
Mother is a witch, father a non-magical man working in demolitions who only discovered his wife’s identity after marriage.] [Older student.
Strong desire for self-expression, extroverted, articulate, frequently acts as an emcee or host in daily life.] [First-year.
Raised by grandmother due to parents’ absence for unknown reasons; forgetful, timid, lacking self-confidence.] …
Just as Sherlock shifted his gaze away from a round-faced boy and his grandmother to look for his next subject, A scarlet steam locomotive came chugging in, bearing a sign: *Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock*.
As soon as the train arrived at the platform, the crowd surged forward.
Thick smoke from the engine drifted over the crowd.
Soon, the first carriage filled with students, followed by the second, the third…
Students who had boarded leaned out of carriage windows to talk to their families, messed around in their seats, or sat quietly looking around with curious eyes.
The air was filled with cheer and excitement.
Sherlock didn’t rush to have his ticket checked or board.
His target had not yet appeared.
Until then, he would continue to wait.
Even if the wait proved long.
Finally.
When he saw a scrawny little boy pushing a heavy trunk onto the platform alone, Sherlock’s eyes lit up with satisfaction.
There you are at last!