Sherlock placed the Sneakoscope that Ron had given Harry on the table.
With only Sherlock and Harry in the room, it neither glowed nor spun.
"Interesting."
"Sherlock, Hermione is starting to sound more and more like you when she talks."
Harry had just finished reading Hermione's letter at that moment, and said with both excitement and helplessness:
"She also thinks it's good to keep up with the magical world's developments by reading newspapers."
He handed Hermione's letter to Sherlock and went to unwrap the birthday gift she had sent him.
Compared to Ron's letter, Hermione's was much more detailed.
However, Sherlock already knew basically everything Hermione had written about.
Even though she had gone to France, at Hermione's insistence, their letters had never been interrupted.
According to Hermione, she had originally wanted Watson to help send the gift to Harry, but unexpectedly Hedwig had appeared before her.
What happened next was natural.
Just as Harry had told Sherlock earlier, Hermione also suggested that Harry follow the magical world's developments through newspapers.
The gift she sent Harry was something she had seen advertised in the Daily Prophet, and she had also seen Ron's family photo in the newspaper.
Besides that, there was a very typically Hermione passage:
"There are also some interesting places of magical local history here in France. I've completely rewritten my essay on magical history to include some of the things I've discovered here."
Unlike Ron, Hermione directly suggested that Harry go to London with Sherlock, rather than saying she hoped to meet Harry in London.
After reading the letter, Sherlock turned his head just in time to see Harry unwrapping Hermione's gift.
It was a beautiful black leather case with silver lettering:
Broomstick Servicing Kit
"My goodness!"
Harry looked at Sherlock with delight. "I thought she was going to send me a thick book full of difficult spells!"
Seeing Harry's excited expression, Sherlock teased, "I bet if Hermione knew you thought that, she'd definitely want this thing back."
"Please, Sherlock, don't tell her!"
Harry quickly put his hands together in a pleading gesture to Sherlock, then pushed the case toward him and eagerly unzipped it.
"Wow!"
Harry couldn't help exclaiming again.
In front of them appeared a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a small brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a copy of Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.
Seeing these items, Harry's green eyes sparkled, and he couldn't help pleading with Sherlock again:
"Please, please don't tell Hermione what I said earlier!"
"As long as she doesn't ask."
Hearing Sherlock's response, Harry couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
Based on his understanding of Hermione, she probably wouldn't ask.
Next was the last package.
Even without Sherlock's deduction, Harry recognized the scrawled handwriting on the brown paper.
Without doubt, this gift was from Hagrid.
Thinking of that big man who couldn't keep secrets, Harry couldn't help but smile.
He tore off the top layer of paper, and a green leather object appeared in his view.
However, before he could properly unwrap the package, he noticed it trembled strangely, then began to scream shrilly.
What the hell?!
Harry's smile immediately froze.
He knew very well that Hagrid, as his first friend, would never intentionally send him anything dangerous.
The problem was, Hagrid's view of what constituted danger was different from ordinary people's.
Fifty years ago, when he was still a child, he had already started befriending man-eating XXXXX-class Acromantulas.
After growing up, needless to say, he called a three-headed dog that could almost bite Professor Snape "Fluffy little cutie," and had secretly and illegally brought dragon eggs to his hut to hatch.
With such a track record, it wouldn't be strange if Hagrid did something shocking.
"What's wrong?"
Sherlock, who had been reading the Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare, noticed Harry's unusual behavior and turned to ask.
"Hagrid's gift... seems a bit off."
"Oh?"
Sherlock immediately became interested.
"Let me see!"
Sherlock grabbed the remaining wrapping paper that Harry hadn't torn off and pulled. The contents fell out.
It wasn't anything dangerous, just a book.
The cover was beautiful green with golden lettering: The Monster Book of Monsters
Harry's dynamic vision only allowed him to see this much—because the next moment, the book leaped up and jumped onto the bed.
Under Harry's surprised gaze, it stood up and began moving rapidly across the bed sideways like a crab.
The development was so unexpected that Harry could only stare at the scene in bewilderment.
With a sharp "bang," the book fell from the bed to the floor. It quickly stood up again, seemingly wanting to walk toward the other end of the room.
However, it didn't get its wish.
Because a strong, powerful hand grabbed it from the floor.
"Careful!"
Harry immediately called out a warning, as the book opened its mouth to bite Sherlock.
"Snap!"
Before being bitten by the book, Sherlock extended both hands and snapped it shut.
Even so, it continued struggling incessantly, trying to break free from Sherlock's grasp.
Unfortunately, under Sherlock's restraint, no matter how it struggled, it was useless.
Sherlock's hands were strong and powerful, so at most it could only tremble angrily, no longer able to run rapidly or scream shrilly.
"I'll go find a rope or a clip."
Although the book was already under Sherlock's control, he couldn't keep his palms pressed together like this forever, so Harry immediately prepared to take action.
"No need, let's first see what Hagrid said."
"Right, maybe he mentioned how to deal with this thing."
Harry slapped his forehead and immediately picked up Hagrid's card, reading it aloud:
Dear Harry: Happy Birthday
I think you'll find this book useful for next term's classes. I won't say more here, we'll talk when we meet. I hope those Muggles are treating you well
All the best—Hagrid
???
At that moment, Harry's mind was full of question marks.
Why would Hagrid think a book that bites people would be useful?
Harry suddenly felt this wasn't a good sign.
"Sherlock, I'd better go find a rope..." Harry said helplessly. "Hagrid didn't say anything!"
"It's fine, I already know what this book is for."
"You know again? What's it for?"
Harry's voice rose a few notches as he asked excitedly.
"Hagrid's taste is as unique as ever."
Sherlock's response felt like he was giving Harry a non-answer.
The next moment, he placed the book on the table and released his controlling grip.
"Sherlock!"
Seeing this scene, Harry was immediately startled by Sherlock's action.
Wasn't this releasing the Dragon back?
Sure enough, as soon as the Monster Book gained its freedom, it immediately pounced ferociously at Sherlock.
As if it would transform into a fierce Dragon the next moment and bite the person who had just controlled it to pieces.
However, Sherlock's movements were faster. He directly picked up a quill from the table and held it out.
The book didn't care what was coming at it. Seeing a foreign object thrust toward it, it opened its mouth wide and bit down viciously.
With a crisp sound, the broken pen shaft rolled across the table surface.
"Autonomous defense system, based on tactile perception."
Sherlock said quietly.
Then he suspended his hand above the book's spine.
When he had just held out the quill, he had been observing carefully.
So, he easily discovered that when the Monster Book bit down, the spine would protrude directly and form a groove in the center.
At the moment of biting, the leather texture would briefly show contractions similar to breathing.
"Pressure trigger point."
Sherlock muttered to himself again.
Seeing Sherlock's behavior, Harry knew his good friend had fallen into that state of selfless puzzle-solving again.
Obviously, he wanted to figure out the principle behind this book's biting.
Harry knew that when Sherlock fell into this state, nothing he said would be useful, so he could only quietly watch him perform.
The book seemed stunned after biting through a quill and didn't react to Sherlock's actions.
But this was only for an instant.
The next moment, having recovered, it opened its mouth again to bite at Sherlock's fingers, clearly wanting a repeat performance.
However, this time, Sherlock gave it no chance.
He decisively acted, sliding along the protruding texture from top to bottom.
Something magical happened.
As the touch changed from rough to smooth, The Monster Book of Monsters trembled violently, then suddenly became quiet.
The beautiful green leather cover slowly opened under Sherlock's palm, revealing the text recorded inside.
Harry pushed his glasses up in surprise.
Only then did he finally see clearly what was in the book, which seemed to be introducing some terrifying creatures.
Sherlock quickly flipped through it, confirming that the entire book was about introducing magical creatures of the wizarding world, very similar to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
The difference was that the creatures introduced in this book were often the large, highly aggressive type, and generally rated XXXX or above in the British Ministry of Magic's classification system.
While Sherlock was browsing, it lay in his hands like an ordinary book, allowing him to do as he pleased.
There was no trace of its earlier untamed appearance.
Sherlock smiled and closed the book, turning to his good friend:
"Harry, I bet you a Galleon that Hagrid definitely thinks all the creatures introduced in this book are cute little darlings."
"No need to bet, because I think so too," Harry said decisively.
Hearing Harry's words, Sherlock shook his head somewhat disappointedly, then said again,
"Then shall we make another bet? Hagrid definitely thinks everyone who gets this book can intuitively figure out how to open it—in his view, 'gently stroking it' like I just did is the most natural thing in the world."
"How is that possible?"
Harry said in surprise. "This kind of thing... except for you, no one else could possibly think of it, okay?"
"Ha, then it's settled. You're definitely going to lose this Galleon!"
Of course, for either Sherlock or Harry, one Galleon was nothing.
Sherlock was mainly enjoying the process.
Harry showed a wry smile. Regarding Hagrid's taste, he really couldn't compliment it.
Like the Christmas gift he had given him before, that handmade flute.
Harry's musical talent wasn't very good, so except for playing music for the three-headed dog Fluffy at the end of first year, in most cases he used it to crack nuts, which it was very good for.
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