0151 Exploring Burrow

"While Ron certainly eats plenty, that's not the reason you spend all day in the kitchen."

Sherlock ignored Ron's embarrassed look and continued.

"There's also the wall clock across from us—you'll understand once you look at it.

These points are sufficient for me to conclude.

Compared to the living room, the kitchen is your family's true 'social center.'"

Harry and Hermione followed Sherlock's gaze, only then noticing the wall clock.

Like the strange large clock in the living room, this kitchen wall clock also wasn't used to indicate time.

It had only one hand, no numbers, and phrases like "Time to make tea," "Time to feed the chickens," and "You're going to be late" written on its face.

Its purpose was quite obvious.

"Brilliant!"

Harry couldn't help but praise, "Sherlock, your observational skills seem even sharper than a year ago!"

"I think so too."

Hearing Harry's heartfelt praise, Sherlock looked quite pleased and even explained.

"According to biology, at our age, all aspects of physical function continue to improve with age.

This upward trend continues until about twenty, maintains for about five to ten years, then begins to slowly decline."

Hearing Sherlock's words, Hermione also showed a thoughtful expression.

"For individual wizards, magical power does indeed grow with age."

"Hermione, you're absolutely correct. This is precisely what I told you before—when science and magic intersect, they're bound to produce many interesting conclusions."

"Is this why you spent the entire summer dissecting small animals?"

"That was merely part of it."

"Hey, you two..." Ron indicated he couldn't listen anymore.

"It's summer vacation—summer vacation! Can't we avoid discussing these things at times like this?

Sherlock, you're absolutely right that we're more accustomed to staying here. But now let me show you my bedroom."

Seeing Ron deliberately put on an exasperated expression, all three couldn't help but laugh, naturally ending the topic.

Next, led by Ron, they passed through a narrow corridor to an uneven staircase.

The stairs twisted and spiraled, with a door half-open at the third-floor landing.

Sherlock caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes watching them through the crack before the door snapped shut.

Seeing this, Ron looked somewhat helpless. "That's Ginny."

"Is she always like this?" Sherlock asked.

"No, no, no, she usually never closes her door, so seeing her so shy is really incredible..."

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully, his gaze subtly passing over Harry, who was completely oblivious to this.

Understood.

The three climbed two more floors, finally stopping before a door with peeling paint.

A small sign on the door read "Ron's Room."

As soon as they entered the room, Harry and Hermione froze, then looked toward Sherlock.

They reacted this way because the slanted ceiling almost touched their heads.

Just as Sherlock had predicted earlier.

His crude words were indeed truthful!

Sherlock didn't say anything—this had been his reasonable deduction all along.

However, there were things he hadn't predicted.

For example, right now he felt somewhat dazzled, as if he'd walked into a large furnace.

Everything in Ron's room was a brilliant orange-yellow color—the bedspread, walls, even the ceiling.

This was because he had covered nearly every inch of the room with posters.

All the posters had similar content, showing seven witches and wizards wearing bright orange robes.

This created the current light-pollution-like visual effect.

The most prominent feature on each poster was two large, brightly colored letters.

C.C.

And a speeding cannonball.

"This is the Chudley Cannons."

Ron pointed to the orange bedspread and proactively explained to his friends.

"1892 was the last time they won the League Cup. This year they're ranked ninth in the league."

Sherlock looked away and began examining Ron's room more carefully.

Magic textbooks were scattered in a corner, next to a tall stack of comic books.

Sherlock glanced at the covers and saw they were a series—"The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle."

"I think I've seen this book?" Harry also noticed this and couldn't help saying, "Dudley has lots of copies too!"

Ron shook his head vigorously.

"This is a wizarding comic book story—even if the protagonist is indeed a Muggle, it couldn't possibly appear in your world!"

"But I really have seen it..."

Harry was still arguing.

"Impossible, absolutely impossible!"

Ron waved his hands, even more excited than Harry.

"But..."

"Harry."

Sherlock was still observing Ron's room but interjected after hearing Harry and Ron's conversation.

"If you're referring to the comic used to prop up the table leg at the dining table, then I can tell you its name is 'The Adventures of Tintin.'"

"Wh-what?"

"Although both are French works, my friend, I think you should be able to distinguish between Tintin and Martin."

"Uh..."

Harry couldn't help feeling slightly embarrassed.

Sherlock had only been to Privet Drive three times, and one of those times he hadn't even entered the house, with only one visit to his bedroom.

Yet he seemed more familiar with the place than Harry himself.

He'd even noticed the comic Dudley had discarded to prop up a table leg.

And Harry was the one who had lived there for twelve years!

But thinking that this was Sherlock Holmes, he immediately felt relieved.

No problem there!

Sherlock continued observing Ron's bedroom.

The wand he'd given Ron as a Christmas gift last year rested on a large fish tank on the windowsill, which contained many frog spawn.

Ron's fat gray rat Scabbers, a gift from his prefect brother Percy, lay snoring in a patch of sunlight beside the tank.

It still had the same appearance—fur falling out all over and looking listless all day.

Sherlock frowned, stepped over a self-shuffling deck of cards on the floor, and looked out the small window.

Noticing his movement, Harry and Hermione followed.

Then all three saw several gnomes sneaking back into the Weasley family's hedge one by one.

Just as the Weasley twins had said earlier, even if you threw them out, they'd still come back.

Ron looked nervously at his three friends.

Now he was waiting for their evaluation of his room.

Well, mainly Harry and Hermione's evaluation.

As for Sherlock, he knew that fellow couldn't possibly say anything nice.

As long as I have no expectations of him, he can't hurt me.

But he hadn't expected that this time, the first to turn around would be Sherlock.

"Why not use a Jarvey?"

"My room... what did you say?"

"I mean, why not use a Jarvey to deal with these gnomes?"

At this point, Harry and Hermione also turned around.

Hearing the conversation between Sherlock and Ron, Harry was completely confused, while Hermione immediately explained.

"According to Newt Scamander's 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,' Jarveys are natural enemies of gnomes.

Besides eating gnomes, they also eat moles, rats, and voles.

Ronald, although Care of Magical Creatures isn't until third year, I think you should spend more time reading textbooks instead of focusing on those comic books."

"Oh... of course I know that!"

Ron said somewhat irritably, "Jarveys can eat gnomes, but my father thinks using that method to deal with gnomes is too cruel."

Hermione paused, remembering how the gnomes had struggled in the Weasley twins' hands earlier, and a flash of sympathy crossed her face.

At this moment, she couldn't help but somewhat agree with Mr. Weasley's view.

However, the next moment, she heard Sherlock's merciless evaluation.

"Meaningless cheap sympathy!

Gnomes constantly dig underground in gardens, eating plant roots and leaving the ground full of mounds and holes. In severe cases, they can even affect foundations.

When the foundation is unstable, everything shakes—especially with architectural styles like Ron's house, you should be particularly vigilant.

When you've already established that they're harmful to humans, refusing to choose the most efficient method is the most foolish approach."

Hermione. |(*′口`)

'What he said makes so much sense, I have no excuse.'

"I don't really care either way. Mum has talked to Dad about this several times. But it's useless—he always thinks these creatures are interesting...

Forget it, let's not talk about this."

Ron was eager to end this topic. He turned to Harry and asked urgently.

"What do you think of my room? It's just a bit small, sounds like it can't compare to your room at your Muggle home.

And right above me is the attic where a ghoul lives. It keeps banging on the pipes and moaning..."

Harry didn't disappoint his good friend.

During Ron's rambling speech, he smiled happily.

"This is the best room I've ever seen."

Hearing his friend's heartfelt praise, Ron's ears immediately turned red, matching his hair.

Before he could be modest, he heard Sherlock say. "A ghoul! Where? Let me see!"

Ron looked at Sherlock in surprise, seeing his eyes bright with excitement.

"Oh..."

But considering this friend's personality, Ron wasn't surprised at all.

Since he'd already gotten the answer he wanted, and Harry and Hermione were also somewhat interested in ghouls, Ron simply led the three to the ceiling of the outer room and opened a trapdoor.

"I rather dislike this feeling."

Ron turned to Sherlock, who was following closely behind him, and said, "It always makes me think of that room in the fourth-floor corridor at Hogwarts."

With Ron's mention, all three couldn't help but remember the end-of-term incident when they went to protect the Philosopher's Stone.

Sherlock and Harry were fine, but Hermione's face reddened slightly as she stole a glance in Sherlock's direction.

Even now, she hadn't forgotten being bound by Devil's Snare.

The four climbed the stairs one by one into the attic.

Compared to other rooms in the Burrow, this place was dark and damp.

"Lumos!"

This time, Hermione didn't forget her identity as a witch and immediately drew her wand to cast a light charm.

A beam of light shot from her wand tip, instantly illuminating the entire attic.

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