"I take back what I said before," George muttered, his mouth agape as he watched Sherlock holding his wand in a standoff with Malfoy.
Fred, having already snapped out of his daze, said excitedly, "I take back what I said too. I admit I misjudged Professor Cavendish. Percy isn't even fit to carry his shoes!"
Percy, innocently wounded once again, could only turn his head and glare at them in renewed fury.
After witnessing Malfoy getting thoroughly thrashed, Harry and Ron's eyes were also shining with excitement.
"I think our Defence Against the Dark Arts class this term is going to be great!"
"It's definitely going to be more interesting than Quirrell's classes, anyway!"
Mrs. Weasley hurriedly approached Sherlock, checking him for any injuries.
Tears of relief welled in her eyes, and she was so emotional that her words became a bit muddled.
"Sherlock, you shouldn't have rushed in to fight—your Uncle Weasley set a bad example—but, good boy, you seem different from before. I don't know how to say it; maybe you've grown up, but that's a good thing."
Malfoy hadn't even gotten a chance to fight back against Sherlock, while Mr. Weasley's face clearly bore some marks from the scuffle.
But even Mr. Weasley wasn't focused on himself. Instead, he patted Sherlock's shoulder with a complex smile full of relief, gratitude, joy, and happiness.
"I always knew this day would come eventually, Sherlock. I just knew it."
Although Sherlock had just acted completely contrary to his previous personality, his response was still quite aloof.
"People always grow up. It's not too late for me now, especially since Malfoy was so rude."
He was cultivating an image of being cold on the outside but warm on the inside. This way, the contrast wouldn't be too jarring for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and his future personality shift wouldn't feel too abrupt or make them uncomfortable.
Then he walked over to the bookshelf, pulled out a few textbooks needed for the first-year students this year, and placed them on the counter to pay.
"It's better for new students to use new textbooks. Consider it my welcome gift."
Sherlock took the old textbooks out of Ginny's cauldron, put them back in the pile of used books, and then, under Ginny's sparkling, starry-eyed gaze, placed the new books into her cauldron.
"I hope you'll study hard after you start school. I have other matters to attend to now. Visiting can wait for another time. I'll be going now."
With that, he didn't wait for Mrs. Weasley's attempts to persuade him to stay and strode out of Flourish and Blotts.
The Weasley family and Harry watched Sherlock's retreating back, all feeling that his straight posture was inexplicably imposing. (TN: It is just called good posture. How is it 'cool'?)
Mr. Weasley looked at the new books in Ginny's cauldron and sighed with emotion.
"Sherlock really has changed somewhat from before. Sally would be so happy to see him like this."
Mrs. Weasley wiped away her tears.
"Poor child. Living all alone yet still so sensible—he must have suffered a lot."
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were excitedly discussing how they would tease Draco about his father getting beaten to a pulp once school started.
George and Fred were imitating Sherlock's punching motion from earlier, saying it looked much cooler than defeating an enemy with a spell. They were planning to create a magical boxing glove.
Ginny was happily flipping through her new textbooks, Hermione was captivated by a book about Hogwarts history, and Percy was looking for any books on how prefects should manage students. (TN: This is on point. Percy is the type of person to read such books.)
It wasn't until Hagrid passed by and greeted them that they all left the bookstore together.
But no one noticed that among the pile of old books Sherlock had returned from Ginny's cauldron, a diary lay quietly in the stack, as if it had always been there.
Two days later, a stern old witch brought her timid grandson to Flourish and Blotts.
"These old notebooks often contain the wisdom of previous generations. Some can be very helpful to you. You can pick out a few to buy, Neville."
"I-I understand, Grandmother."
The meek boy hurriedly pulled a few notebooks from the pile of old books and, along with his new textbooks, went to pay the clerk.
He also didn't notice that one of the most tattered diaries was, in fact, completely blank...
After leaving the bookstore, Sherlock immediately planned to leave Diagon Alley.
The burning sensation on his left arm had been most intense when he touched Malfoy, but it had gradually subsided afterward and was now completely gone.
This matter seemed strange, so he wanted to hurry home. He needed to examine his left arm further and also go through the original owner's diary again to see if he had missed any key information.
Picking up the robes he had ordered from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and collecting the owl he had already paid for from the Magical Menagerie, Sherlock concluded his trip to Diagon Alley.
Once he returned home, he went straight to the bathroom, stripped completely, and faced the full-length mirror. He saw that there was indeed something unusual on his left arm.
It was a mark resembling a crescent moon. It was quite large, covering more than a third of the skin on his upper left arm.
Sherlock hadn't noticed this mark before. Only after encountering Malfoy and feeling it burn did he realize this mark probably wasn't as simple as a birthmark.
But he didn't understand what purpose it served on his body, or even why it heated up after seeing Malfoy.
Spending a full day, Sherlock carefully reread the original owner's diary and also found many records of the original owner's magical experiments in the study.
Yet he found no information about this mark. He only discovered some clues from a photo of the original owner from his student days.
From a photo showing a bare arm, he confirmed that this mark had been on the original owner's arm even before he had crossed over into this world.
But why, during the twenty years the original owner lived, had the mark seemed to cause no issues, yet it started burning only after he saw Malfoy?
Sherlock couldn't figure this out, and he didn't have any more time to study the matter carefully.
Because time had quietly slipped to the end of August.
Tomorrow was September 1st, the day Hogwarts started.
Sherlock had to pack his things, prepare, and head to that magical school.
Because during Professor McGonagall's last visit, she had left him a ticket.
So the only way he knew to get to Hogwarts now was to go to King's Cross Station and board the train known as the Hogwarts Express.