Amidst the bustling crowds coming and going in the streets of London, a tall, slender young man, dressed in a black robe that was extremely out of sync with modern society, stood by the roadside, studying an address he had copied from a book.
Sherlock paid no attention to the countless strange gazes directed at him.
While he wasn't someone who could completely ignore what others thought of him, his skin was thick enough to basically ignore those strange looks.
Right now, in the direction Sherlock was facing, there was a dilapidated pub that was very out of tune with the surrounding modern shops, and it was open for business.
However, the passersby on the street seemed unable to see this pub.
After more than a month of studying at home, Sherlock had gained a general understanding of most of the basic magic in the magical world.
The reason why ordinary people ignored this pub was obviously the Muggle-Repelling Charm, which wizards used most often in front of Muggles.
This spell was only effective on Muggles, but for Sherlock, as a wizard, the sign of the Leaky Cauldron was so conspicuous.
In fact, going out of the house was a risky move for Sherlock.
He knew nothing about the original owner's social interactions in the magical world, and if he encountered any acquaintances in the Leaky Cauldron or Diagon Alley, he would be at great risk of exposure.
But this trip to Diagon Alley was unavoidable.
Because he not only had to purchase various magical daily necessities to be used at Hogwarts, but also had to go to the original owner's vault in Gringotts to withdraw some money for daily use.
So even knowing there was a risk, Sherlock had to take the risk and walk out of the house.
Besides, this was something he would have to face sooner or later.
Fortunately, the original owner was reclusive, and the possibility of encountering acquaintances was very small, so Sherlock crossed the road and walked into the Leaky Cauldron.
The rough wooden tables and chairs, the creaking bar partition, the primitive brick fireplace, and the simple candle chandelier overhead gave Sherlock, who had suddenly walked in from the modern city streets outside, a feeling of traveling through time.
Here, his attire was no longer conspicuous.
Most of the customers in the bar were dressed similarly to him, and there were even a few old witches wearing exaggerated large pointed hats, who would definitely become the focus of Muggles as soon as they went out.
Sherlock's arrival did not cause much of a reaction in the Leaky Cauldron.
Most of the wizards drinking didn't even look at him; only Tom, the owner and bartender of the bar, had been paying attention to him since Sherlock entered.
"Oh, a new face. What would you like to drink?"
Outside, even if there was no one here who recognized the original owner, Sherlock always put on his cold face.
In any case, being careful was always a good thing.
"Butterbeer, thank you."
He ordered a drink whose name contained beer but wasn't beer, and sat down at an empty table in the corner.
Soon, Tom brought the butterbeer to him, and Sherlock's unapproachable attitude prevented the originally somewhat chatty Tom from opening his mouth to chat more.
Sherlock took a sip of this special wizarding drink.
The taste was sweet and a little greasy, not to his liking.
After only taking one sip, he put the butterbeer aside and then sat at the table quietly waiting.
It wasn't that Sherlock didn't want to directly enter Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, but that he simply didn't know how to enter Diagon Alley.
The Leaky Cauldron had been found.
He also remembered that the entrance to Diagon Alley was in front of a wall in the backyard of the bar.
As long as you lightly tap a certain brick in the wall with your wand, the entrance would open.
But... which brick?
Even if such specific details were mentioned in the book, he couldn't possibly remember them.
Of course, he could also tap random bricks to try to figure out the correct answer.
But if other wizards walked by during the attempt, it would be embarrassing.
They might be suspicious of Sherlock!
So he prepared to use another, better way to enter Diagon Alley.
He sat on the chair for about fifteen minutes.
A couple who seemed to be buying school supplies for their child for the new semester walked into the Leaky Cauldron with their daughter.
The couple looked like Muggles.
However, the daughter with a head of fluffy curly hair next to them had a wand clearly inserted in her pocket, showing her identity as a young witch.
The family did not stay in the Leaky Cauldron, but walked directly through the bar hall towards the backyard.
Sherlock, who had been waiting, saw this and immediately stood up from his seat unhurriedly, took out a few knuts he found in the study at home from his pocket, and threw them onto the bar to pay for the drink.
When he walked to the backyard of the bar, the little girl's family happened to be standing by the wall, counting the bricks.
"Do you still remember which one it is?"
"Of course I remember! How could I forget such an important thing, Mum?"
The girl raised her head and used the trash can as a reference point to count.
"Count three bricks up—then two bricks across—that's it!"
She muttered softly, while taking out her wand and tapping the brick she had identified lightly.
The brick she tapped trembled and began to move, and a small hole appeared in the middle.
The hole became larger and larger, and soon a wide archway appeared in front of them, leading to a winding, cobblestone-paved street with no end in sight.
Sherlock, who was behind them, saw the whole process and clearly remembered the location of the brick that the little girl tapped.
Then he passed this 'helpful' family.
"Sorry, excuse me."
Sherlock still maintained his aloof persona, walking along the straight path in the middle of Diagon Alley towards Gringotts, which meant he couldn't hear the conversation of the little girl's family behind him.
"Where should we go first, Hermione?"
"I have agreed to meet Harry and Ron in Diagon Alley today, so we have to go to the entrance of Gringotts to wait for them first."
Hermione Granger, a second-year student at Hogwarts this year, said to her father.