"Sherlock, this time I truly admire you!"
Ron looked at Sherlock with genuine admiration, speaking in a nasal, congested voice.
"I have to admit, I was indeed somewhat skeptical of that claim the other day—just a little bit, of course."
"Ron, that was indeed quite shallow of you. If you hadn't expressed doubt that day, I wouldn't have used this matter to distract your attention."
Hearing Sherlock's words, Ron felt somewhat embarrassed, but more than that, he was helpless.
So, Sherlock's competitive spirit was this strong?
Just to prove a casual remark he'd made, he'd actually remembered it until today.
But thinking about it differently, this also showed Sherlock's recognition of him—it meant he truly considered Ron a friend.
If it were anyone else, Sherlock wouldn't care what they thought!
Yes, yes, that must be it!
Ron was just about to praise him when suddenly, as if performing a magic trick, Sherlock produced a small glass vial from his robes.
"Now then, you should drink this Pepper-Up Potion."
"I'm not drinking that stuff!"
Ron's face changed, and he shook his head repeatedly. "I'd rather go morning training with you."
Although he had just agreed to Sherlock's terms, he was clearly planning to start being difficult now.
After all, I just won't drink it—what can you do to me?
You can't force medicine down my throat, can you?
No matter how eloquently you speak, Sherlock, even if I starve to death, die outside, or jump from here, I won't drink a single drop of your medicine!
Seeing this situation, Sherlock didn't try to persuade him, but instead turned to look aside. "Neville."
"Ah?"
"If you truly want to learn swordsmanship properly, then help Harry force this Pepper-Up Potion down Ron's throat."
"Ah!"
"Also, after you've done that, you drink some too."
"Ah?!"
"Neville, you don't want to drag your cold-ridden body through morning training with us in the freezing dawn, do you?"
Hearing Sherlock's words, Neville's face showed hesitation.
Ron was already stunned.
He never imagined that Sherlock would actually resort to force-feeding medicine.
Seeing the usually introverted and timid Neville being stirred to action by Sherlock's persuasive words, he immediately shouted.
"Hey, hey, Sherlock, don't do anything rash!"
Then he turned to Neville. "Neville, you need to think this through!"
Rather than helping his cause, this statement actually helped Neville make up his mind.
The next moment, Neville actually jumped straight down from his bed and took the glass vial containing the Pepper-Up Potion from Sherlock's hand.
Ron was shocked on the spot.
Who said Neville was timid? He was incredibly brave!
Ron instinctively wanted to run, but Harry held him tightly.
After training with Sherlock for so long, Harry was no longer the weak-bodied boy he once was.
Ron, weakened by his cold, could only submit to their actions.
Watching Neville approach step by step with the Pepper-Up Potion, Ron struggled desperately while shouting.
"Don't come any closer!"
However, before he could speak, Sherlock had already waved his wand.
"Muffliato!"
With this Muffling Charm, Ron's loud shouts immediately became as quiet as a mosquito's buzz, sounding almost like he was acting coquettishly.
"Don't come over here!"
Neville smiled. For some reason, he suddenly felt a sense of refreshing satisfaction.
"Ron, time for your medicine."
Neville spoke gently, but his actions were anything but hesitant—he directly pinched Ron's mouth and poured the entire bottle down his throat.
His movements were so swift and decisive that even Harry, who was restraining Ron, was startled.
Who would have thought Neville had this side to him?
It was quite unexpected.
Sherlock, however, smiled slightly, showing a satisfied expression.
To learn swordsmanship, how could one succeed without this kind of spirit?
Since the Sorting Hat had placed Neville in Gryffindor, it proved that courage must be hidden deep within his heart.
Look—there was the courage!
After being forced to drink the Pepper-Up Potion by Harry and Neville, steam immediately began rising from under Ron's bright red hair, his whole head looking like it was on fire.
Seeing this, Harry and Neville finally released Ron.
At this point, Sherlock handed the second bottle of Pepper-Up Potion to Neville.
The latter drank it without hesitation, and his ears immediately began smoking.
Seeing this scene, Ron was almost laughing with anger.
Good grief—you're meek as a lamb with Sherlock, but when it comes to me, you throw heavy punches, is that it?
Now he understood why Neville had been sorted into Gryffindor.
This round-faced kid was incredibly brave!
The Pepper-Up Potion was very effective.
By evening, both Ron and Neville were much better.
So, the two conspired and set their sights on Dean.
Simply put, they planned to do to Dean what Harry and Neville had done to Ron.
However, what they hadn't expected was that Dean, who usually appeared honest and straightforward, proved quite shrewd when it mattered.
When he saw Ron and Neville approaching with ill intent, he said nothing and simply downed the potion in one gulp.
Then his ears began smoking too.
This left Ron extremely frustrated.
He had wanted to experience what it felt like to force medicine on someone else, but this guy hadn't given him any opportunity at all.
What a disappointment!
After this, Sherlock and Harry found time to visit Hagrid.
Their main purpose was to get rock cakes from him.
On the way, Harry repeatedly warned Sherlock not to mention that they wanted the things as shields.
Although Sherlock didn't think much of this concern, he agreed under Harry's earnest request.
Hagrid didn't think twice about it—hearing that the two wanted rock cakes, he immediately and generously gave them quite a few.
After that, he mysteriously led them to the backyard.
"Come with me, I've got some good stuff here."
"Good stuff... it's not those cabbage-eating slugs from last time, is it?"
"What slugs? This is much more exciting than that!"
"More exciting?"
"That's right! Come on, follow me and you'll see!"
Listening to the conversation between Harry and Hagrid, Sherlock felt something was odd.
But when he followed Hagrid to the backyard, he immediately understood his intention.
Pumpkins.
Giant pumpkins.
Without exaggeration, each one could fit two or three people inside.
"How's that? Amazing, right? I prepared these for Halloween!"
Harry stared wide-eyed in amazement at this sight.
Hagrid was right—this was incredibly exciting.
He'd never seen such enormous pumpkins in his life!
Each one was half as tall as a person!
"Good lord, Hagrid, how did you manage this? What kind of fertilizer is so effective?"
"It's just..."
"Engorgement Charm, right?"
"No, no, no, how could I possibly do such a thing? You know they snapped my wand—I can't use magic anymore..."
Hearing Sherlock's words, Hagrid's face immediately changed, thinking to himself that this was bad.
How could he forget about Sherlock's abilities?
He should have only brought Harry in alone!
"Is that so?"
Sherlock looked toward the pink umbrella in Hagrid's hand.
Seeing this, Hagrid quickly hid the umbrella behind his back.
Harry also knew what secret Hagrid's umbrella held—just as Sherlock had said, everyone had their secrets.
Noticing the troubled expression on Hagrid's face, he immediately said. "Sherlock, maybe we should talk about something else..."
He also gave Sherlock a pleading look.
"Very well."
Sherlock nodded and pointed to the side. "These roosters seem to be raised quite well."
"Of course they are!"
Hagrid immediately laughed heartily. "Sherlock, you know me—I'm quite good with animals...
Speaking of which, the youngest Weasley girl came by here a few days ago, and she said I was doing great too!"
"Ginny?"
"Yes, Harry. I'd say she definitely wouldn't refuse your autograph..."
"If you keep talking about that, I won't play with you anymore!"
"Hahaha!"
The approach of Halloween meant that the first Quidditch match of the season was also about to begin, which meant Harry participated in morning training less and less frequently.
Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular Quidditch training was running high, and nothing could stop him.
He truly trained come rain or shine.
As a result, the person who went to morning training with Sherlock every day became Neville instead.
Since his cold had been cured, he had joined Sherlock's morning training team as previously agreed, learning swordsmanship from him.
As for Ron, it was still "next time for sure."
After one morning training session ended, Sherlock looked at Neville with satisfaction.
"Neville, you truly have talent for swordsmanship."
"Really?" Neville asked carefully.
"Unless necessary, I don't lie."
Sherlock indeed wasn't lying.
He mainly hadn't expected that little Gryffindor House could simultaneously produce both Harry and Neville, this pair of swordsmanship prodigies.
Dumbledore had once said that there were two people who met the conditions to be the wizarding world's savior.
It was just that Voldemort ultimately chose Harry.
Did this mean that Neville actually possessed the potential of a savior too?
Thinking of this, Sherlock couldn't help but develop a bold idea.
One Saturday before Halloween, wind and rain battered the castle, with raindrops the size of beans pattering against the castle windows for several days without stopping.
Several days of heavy rain had caused the lake to rise, and the entire flower bed was a muddy mess.
In such terrible weather, Harry returned to Hogwarts Castle after training, soaked through and covered in mud.
His mood was terrible.
This had nothing to do with the weather.
Even if there were no wind or rain, this training session wouldn't have been pleasant.
According to the Weasley twins' reconnaissance, their current situation wasn't optimistic.
With the speed boost from the new Nimbus 2001 racing brooms, the Slytherin team members looked like seven blurred pale green shadows, zipping through the air like jet planes.
When he heard this news, Harry even felt somewhat regretful.
If he had been a bit more ruthless last time, maybe Malfoy could have stayed in the hospital wing longer.
But he immediately shook his head and dismissed this thought.
Not to mention that incident was already over.
Even if it weren't, with Madam Pomfrey's excellent medical skills, even if he had knocked out Malfoy's jaw, he would recover after at most one night in the hospital wing.
'How annoying!'
"Harry!"
As the troubled Harry walked through an empty corridor, a pleasant voice suddenly called out to him.
At the same time, a very beautiful girl with long, glossy black hair appeared before Harry, looking at him with a smile.
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