Chapter 10: First Encounter with Harry Potter

Harry Potter felt helpless.

His Uncle Vernon, usually a man of harsh temperament, had for the first time in history driven him to King's Cross Station and even helped him push his heavy trunk into the terminal. Harry had initially wondered why Vernon was being so kind, but upon seeing that there was no Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he immediately understood. No wonder Vernon had left so quickly; he had deliberately abandoned him there.

With no other choice, Harry mustered the courage to ask a guard for directions. Although he avoided mentioning the specific platform number, he was still scolded and treated like a troublemaker, largely because he could not even explain exactly where Hogwarts was located. When he learned that there were no trains departing at eleven o’clock, he felt utterly desperate.

Fortunately, he encountered a kind wizarding family. With their help, Harry finally succeeded in reaching Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. However, because he was so late, the train was nearly full. He struggled to push through the crowd and eventually found an empty compartment near the back of the train. He tried to heave his trunk onto the step, but because he was thin and the trunk was so heavy, he failed twice, with the box slamming painfully onto his feet. He had no time to worry about the pain, however. Taking a deep breath, he made a third attempt with all his might. Unsurprisingly, he failed again.

At that critical moment, a strong hand caught the trunk, preventing it from crashing onto his feet for a third time. Harry looked up, and a striking face appeared in his line of sight.

"You need help."

The stranger exerted a bit of force, lifting the trunk onto the step while offering Harry a smile.

Harry had grown up in an environment of bullying and oppression, both at home and at school. At home, he didn't even have his own room; his aunt and uncle forced him to live in a cupboard under the stairs, which was filled with spiders. If he caused any trouble, he was denied meals and frequently bullied by his cousin, Dudley. At school, Harry had no friends, also because of Dudley. As the school bully, Dudley was extremely tyrannical—he was the only one who would dare to pull his pants down in public or make others pull up his pants for him. Knowing how much Dudley hated Harry, no one wanted to risk crossing Dudley’s gang. In such an environment, Harry had naturally developed a reclusive personality.

Yet, at this moment, Harry would have bet that the smile of the young boy standing before him was the most charming he had ever seen. Between his distinctive gray eyes, his slender, aquiline nose, and the ease with which he handled the trunk, the stranger seemed exceptionally reliable. The last time he had felt this way was on his birthday, when the giant Hagrid had brought him his Hogwarts acceptance letter and told him he was a wizard.

"I am Sherlock Holmes, a first-year student. And you?"

While Harry was still dazed, Sherlock had already extended his hand.

"H-hello, Holmes. I'm Harry Potter, also a first-year."

Harry was so nervous that he reflexively reached out with both hands to shake Sherlock's. He quickly realized how silly that looked and pulled one hand back. He simply lacked social experience and was terrified that the other boy would mock him.

Sherlock, of course, would do no such thing. Even for Sherlock, finding Harry Potter—someone he had never seen before—on an entire train was no easy task. Fortunately, Sherlock had arrived early enough to have ample time to rule out those waiting on the platform. This allowed him to focus his attention solely on those who arrived at the last minute. Even so, Sherlock was surprised. When he found Harry, he discovered the boy was alone and appeared to be in a poor state. This fact made Sherlock wonder for a moment if he had found the wrong person. Even without his parents, given Harry’s status in the wizarding world, it wouldn't have been strange for ten or eight people to be seeing him off, right? Yet, he had arrived all alone.

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Sherlock understood: this hero who had saved the wizarding world had not grown up in the wizarding world, but had been left in the non-wizarding one. This made Sherlock even more interested in Harry.

"Just call me Sherlock," Sherlock said, shaking Harry’s hand. "It’s crowded up ahead, so let’s sit here, Potter—or may I call you Harry?"

"Oh? Y-yes, that’s fine."

Harry nodded subconsciously. Before he knew it, he had been guided by Sherlock to the window side of the compartment. Sherlock then moved all his luggage inside, along with his own pet owl, Hedwig. Being so clearly directed by someone he had just met did not bother Harry; instead, he felt a sense of relief. Having just stepped into the magical world, he was terrified, and he desperately needed a brotherly figure like this.

Deep down, a bold thought took root: if only he could stay with Sherlock like this. Compared to his cousin Dudley, this new classmate, who looked so reliable, seemed like a true brother. If Sherlock hadn't spoken, Harry would have mistaken him for an older student.

Once they were settled, Sherlock looked Harry over. "You don't seem to have had a very good time."

A single sentence was enough to make Harry feel an intense desire to pour his heart out. Looking into Sherlock’s encouraging eyes, he spilled out all his experiences from the past years. Sherlock proved to be a capable listener, nodding occasionally and asking follow-up questions. By the end of their conversation, Sherlock had a much more comprehensive understanding of Harry—he was even more interesting than he had imagined.

"So, your uncle dropped you off at the station today and just left, and you were lucky enough to get help from others to finally make it here?"

"Exactly! I was wondering why he was suddenly being so kind—wait, how did you know that?"

Harry stopped mid-sentence, suddenly sensing something was wrong. He stared at Sherlock in shock. "I only said I lived with relatives all these years; I never said it was my uncle! And! How did you know I couldn't find the platform and had to get help from others?"

Sherlock was long accustomed to this reaction. At first, he had enjoyed it. After explaining his deductive process in detail and seeing the surprise and admiration in others' eyes, a sense of superiority would naturally arise in his heart. But after doing it so many times, Sherlock had become indifferent to such reactions, to the point of finding them dull. Now, he felt this ability was quite ordinary and hardly worth praising. Anyone who trained diligently could reach his level.

But others clearly did not think so. Looking at Harry, Sherlock knew that if he didn't explain these things, their friendly conversation wouldn't be able to continue.