Chapter 44: Three Matters

It was a seemingly ordinary morning.

When the owls flew into the Great Hall as they did every day, almost everyone's attention was captured by a long, slender package carried by six long-eared owls.

Sherlock glanced up and then looked away.

Harry was just as eager as anyone else to know what was inside the package.

Ron, meanwhile, simply kept his head down and concentrated on eating.

Just as Harry was about to ask Sherlock, several owls swooped down, and the package landed right in front of him, even knocking his rasher of bacon onto the floor.

Harry was utterly astonished.

"What is this?"

Ron, who had been busy eating, froze as well and reached out to open it, only to hear Sherlock say, "If I were you, I wouldn't touch it."

Ron instantly pulled his hand back.

As if to verify Sherlock's words, no sooner had the owls fluttered away than another owl flew in and dropped a letter squarely on top of the package.

Harry picked up the letter and was about to tear it open when Ron stopped him.

He looked at Sherlock, "Can I open the letter?"

Harry found himself amused despite the situation.

Ron's reaction was a textbook example of overcorrection.

"Go ahead and open it. I expect that's your gift from Professor McGonagall."

Upon hearing this, Harry no longer cared how Sherlock had deduced that.

With trembling hands, he tore open the envelope, inside of which were just a few short lines:

[Do not open the package on the table. It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick. I would prefer not to have everyone knowing you have a new broom, or they will all want one.]

[Oliver Wood will be waiting for you tonight at seven o'clock on the Quidditch pitch for your first training session.]

[By the way, Mr. Holmes's package is here as well. Remember to pass it along to him.]

"Sherlock, Professor McGonagall says your package was sent along with mine."

Suppressing the excitement churning in his heart, Harry handed the letter to Sherlock and Ron.

Sherlock was somewhat surprised.

Although he had deduced from the shape and weight of the package that it was a gift from Professor McGonagall for Harry, he had not expected her to send his own mail along with it.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron gasped in envy. "I've never even touched one."

"This time you can touch it all you want," Harry said, before turning back to Sherlock with a curious expression. "What's in your package?"

"A violin sent from home."

Sherlock's voice was calm, but Harry and Ron were instantly dumbfounded:

"What did you say?"

"You can play the violin too?"

He was deeply knowledgeable, knew how to box and fence, and now he was saying he could play the violin as well?

Wasn't his repertoire getting just a bit too broad?

Sherlock didn't answer directly, instead asking in turn, "By the way, do you find violin playing noisy?"

Harry shook his head first. "No."

What kind of noise hadn't he experienced at the Dursleys'?

The sound of Aunt Petunia banging on the cupboard door every day was already excessive, not to mention Uncle Vernon's roaring and his cousin Dudley's screaming and crying.

Ron hesitated a little. "That depends on how well it's played. If it's played well, it's as lovely as music. If it's played poorly..."

"Ah, then there's no problem at all."

Sherlock cut Ron off before he could finish.

Harry and Ron looked at each other in dismay.

Was he really that confident?

After exchanging a few words, the three of them quickly left, primarily because Harry and Ron wanted to find a quiet place to open the package and take a proper look.

Yet, they had only walked a couple of steps when Sherlock stopped and turned to look behind them.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Harry couldn't help asking.

Sherlock withdrew his gaze. "Nothing, let's go."

He had noticed someone tailing them, but after a brief thought, he dismissed it.

It was bound to be a waste of time anyway.

Ever since the owls dropped off the package, Malfoy had been keeping a close eye on Harry.

Like everyone else, he was consumed with curiosity about that long, slender package.

Therefore, the moment he saw Sherlock and the other two leave, he brought Crabbe and Goyle along without a second word and began trailing them.

The moment the package was opened, Malfoy was practically driven wild with excitement.

As everyone knew, first-year students were not permitted to bring broomsticks.

Before the term started, he had put a great deal of effort into trying to smuggle a broomstick into school, but unfortunately, he had ultimately failed.

Now that such an opportunity had presented itself, he would not let it slip by under any circumstances.

In his view, Snape already harbored a deep hostility toward Harry; wouldn't he seize an opportunity like this to punish him severely?

Expulsion was unlikely, but detention was definitely guaranteed!

Although Sherlock was undeniably formidable, they now had the culprit red-handed, and no matter how skilled Sherlock was, it would be useless!

Malfoy never imagined that when he sought out Professor Snape, the professor—who had usually been quite amiable toward him—would scold him with a dark expression.

"Mr. Malfoy, I advise you to mind your own business!"

Malfoy was utterly bewildered.

What was going on?

Without Sherlock even having to lift a finger, the plan had completely fallen through?

How could he possibly know that this broomstick was a gift to Harry from Professor McGonagall?

Sherlock's words had ultimately struck a chord; she had no desire to keep losing.

Coupled with Wood's strong recommendation, Professor McGonagall had finally dug into her own pocket to purchase the latest model of broomstick—the Nimbus Two Thousand—for Harry.

Just in case, she had given a heads-up to the other professors in advance, which naturally included Snape.

Thus, when Malfoy came running eagerly to lodge a complaint, Snape simply thought him a fool.

Malfoy returned in defeat, while an oblivious Crabbe and Goyle hurried over to join him.

By this time, Harry and Ron had finished inspecting the broomstick and the violin and were preparing to leave.

Naturally, Crabbe and Goyle wanted to block their path.

Yet, both of them were worried about being beaten up by Sherlock again.

Just then, Malfoy—their guiding pillar—returned, and malevolent grins immediately surfaced on their faces.

Potter, you're finished!

However...

"Let them go."

"What?"

Crabbe and Goyle almost thought they had misheard. Crabbe couldn't help chiming in, "Draco, the thing he's holding is a broomstick, and it's the newest model, the Nimbus Two Thousand! Didn't you say earlier..."

"I said let them go!"

Malfoy roared in a low, furious voice.

At that moment, even without Sherlock explaining, Harry and Ron understood what had happened.

Watching the furious and bewildered Malfoy, Harry almost burst out laughing.

Ron certainly wasn't going to let the opportunity pass, mercilessly mocking him without holding back.

"Malfoy, your Comet Two Sixty is decent enough, but it's not in the same league as a Nimbus."

Malfoy cowered when facing Sherlock, but he struck out with full force when facing Ron.

"Shut your mouth, Weasley, you couldn't afford even half a broom handle! I suppose you and your brothers had to gather twigs one by one just to scrape together a broomstick?"

"What did you say? Say that again if you dare!"

Watching them go back and forth at each other, Sherlock couldn't help but shake his head.

Childish.

Yet, on second thought, this was precisely the mental state eleven-year-old boys ought to be in.

Compared to them, he was the abnormal one.

Just then, Hermione approached, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Professor Flitwick not far away. Sherlock knew this group wouldn't be able to make a real scene.

He simply abandoned the others and left with Hermione.

To give Hermione special flight training.

That was the third task that occupied Sherlock's time.

And it had to be said, Hermione's aptitude for flying exceeded even Sherlock's expectations.