"It's really nothing special."
Despite his words, Sherlock couldn't help but feel pleased as he noticed the genuine awe and admiration on Harry and Ron's faces.
Even though he was far more mature than most kids his age, he was still an eleven-year-old at heart.
Most importantly, he could tell clearly that their praise was sincere.
Not like the flattery he'd encountered from others in the past.
Once the shock wore off, Ron immediately asked Harry if he could come along to visit Hagrid.
Harry didn't refuse and happily extended the invitation to Sherlock as well.
Naturally, Sherlock agreed.
This had been part of his original plan—by befriending the so-called "Savior of the Wizarding World," he could easily build connections with others and gain favorable impressions right from the start.
That way, he could gather valuable information without wasting unnecessary time or energy.
However, as he spent more time with Harry, he found the boy surprisingly likable—and gradually came to view him as a true friend.
And precisely because they were friends, Sherlock felt it was all the more important to act when needed.
Harry, having secured Sherlock's agreement, was in such a good mood that he completely forgot his dread of Potions class—and Professor Snape.
But that didn't last long.
The Potions classroom was located in the dungeons, and the cold, shadowy atmosphere reminded them of the Leaky Cauldron—only darker, and colder still.
Along the walls were jars filled with grotesque, twisted animal specimens—so bizarre and eerie that even a single glance made the skin crawl.
Yet somehow, they were still less unsettling than the man who taught the class.
Professor Severus Snape, the final Head of House among the four at Hogwarts, wasted no time establishing his presence.
From the moment he opened his mouth, his voice was laced with cutting sarcasm:
"Ah, Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."
The Slytherins immediately burst into smug laughter.
Harry's and Ron's faces flushed crimson.
Sherlock, however, leaned forward in his seat, eyes gleaming with interest.
This professor... has presence.
Once roll call was over, Snape—like Professor McGonagall, began with a verbal gauntlet:
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.
"I don't expect you to truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
A tense silence fell over the room.
Sherlock nodded in full agreement.
Snape was absolutely right.
He, too, had often felt that certain people could drag down the average intelligence of an entire street. Sometimes their mere presence was an assault on the senses.
What intrigued Sherlock even more was that Snape had mentioned science.
He was the first Hogwarts professor to do so.
In Sherlock's opinion, this was the man who should be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.
If only they could swap him with Quirrell—what a perfect solution that would be.
But alas, no such swap could happen.
Still...
Sherlock glanced toward Harry.
Is Snape targeting the Boy Who Lived?
Every other professor—Quirrell included, had shown favor to Harry. For someone to behave so differently? That was genuinely fascinating.
It was a spectacle Sherlock welcomed. So he sat back to observe Snape grilling Harry, playing the role of a curious onlooker.
"Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air—clearly eager to prove she wasn't the kind of dunderhead Snape referred to.
As for Harry... Sherlock could tell from his dazed expression that he hadn't even processed the question—same as Ron.
"I don't know, sir," Harry admitted honestly.
"Tsk, tsk. Clearly, you didn't bother to open a single book before arriving at school."
Snape's disdain was undisguised. "Very well, let's try again—what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Harry: (-*)
"Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"
Harry: (*￣︿￣)
"Fame clearly isn't everything," Snape said coldly. "Is it, Mr. Potter?"
Harry: (ˇˇ)
Snape's piercing glare, along with the amused sneers from the Slytherins, left Harry flustered and furious. At last, he blurted:
"I may not know, sir—but I think Granger does. Why don't you ask her?"
A ripple of laughter broke the silence.
But the moment Snape swept his gaze across the classroom, the chuckling died instantly—leaving the room so quiet you could hear a quill drop.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
Of course he knew the answers.
Phyllida Spore's One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and Arsenius Jigger's Magical Drafts and Potions both covered those topics thoroughly. They were standard textbooks.
But most first-years wouldn't memorize those details before school even started.
And truthfully, if Sherlock hadn't considered the information useful, he wouldn't have stored it in his own "hard drive," either.
Takes up too much space.
Hermione, on the other hand, was as consistent as ever—she stood up with her hand raised high the moment Harry called on her.
So why was Snape targeting Harry?
Sherlock's instincts told him: while Snape's animosity seemed directed at Harry, it likely didn't originate from him.
Given Snape's age and position, a theory was starting to take shape in Sherlock's mind.
"Heh."
Sherlock chuckled softly.
How fascinating—beyond the world of magic, even Hogwarts' faculty had layers.
But the room was still under Snape's oppressive silence. So Sherlock's quiet laughter stood out starkly.
"Sit down!" Snape barked at Hermione, then strode over to Sherlock's desk, cold eyes fixed on him.
"Sherlock Holmes," he said slowly. "The Transfiguration prodigy. All the professors sing your praises. So, do you find this amusing?"
"Not at all, sir," Sherlock replied as he rose politely. "I just... remembered something delightful."
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