In 1987, a bitmap file format called GIF was born. This new format achieved dynamic image display functionality, with effects essentially equivalent to the character cards in Chocolate Frogs.
In 1989, the GIF format received a version update, truly achieving animation capabilities.
In this respect alone, it was even more advanced than the magical world's portraits.
Sherlock's explanation once again amazed Harry and Ron with his vast knowledge.
The two exchanged glances, feeling that this new first-year student like them seemed to know everything.
Though, this was just a small interval.
In any case, the Chocolate Frogs not only gave Sherlock and Harry a Dumbledore card, but after trading, they even collected cards of Morgana, Hengist, Alberic, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin.
With incredible luck, they each drew an SSR rare card.
Quang Po and Bowman Wright.
The former was a 15th-century Dragonologist who discovered the uses of Chinese Fireball dragon egg powder.
The later was professional Metal charmer highly gifted and skillful with charm-work, as he was also the inventor of the famous Golden snitch used in Quidditch.
Ron was quite envious.
These things were hard currency among Hogwarts students—some rare cards could even be traded for a week's worth of homework.
His own Quang Po card was a gift from his second brother Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania.
As for Bowman Wright, that had been taken from his brother by trading.
Hearing this, Sherlock showed a thoughtful expression.
It seemed that in this regard, magical schools weren't much different from ordinary ones.
Next, Ron warned Sherlock and Harry about another snack: Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
"Every flavour" truly meant every flavour—all tastes were represented.
Not only traditional candy flavors like chocolate, peppermint, and marmalade, but also non-food tastes like leather, paint, and dirt.
Even more extreme were stimulating flavors like boogers, earwax, and various bodily functions.
After brief consideration, Sherlock realized that with technological advancement, the non-magical world could actually achieve this too.
But there was really no need to.
However, through his conversation with Ron, he found the intersection of magic and science quite fascinating indeed.
Just as Harry was mustering courage to lick a strange gray bean that even Ron dared not touch, the compartment door was pushed open once again.
This time, three young boys appeared before Sherlock.
The one in the middle had pale blond hair that was almost white, and was quite handsome, though his complexion was rather pale.
Flanking him were two tall and short, unattractive fat boys. Though not good-looking, they were quite sturdy.
These two subtly flanked the boy in a protective formation, like bodyguards.
Against their backdrop, the boy appeared even more striking, his pale complexion giving him an almost sickly complexion.
In terms of looks alone, even Sherlock paled in comparison.
With just one glance, Sherlock guessed his identity.
The Malfoy family.
Like the Weasley family, hair was also a distinguishing feature of the Malfoys.
The former had red hair, the latter platinum blond.
Meanwhile, like the Weasleys, the Malfoys were also part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families.
However, Sherlock wasn't the only one who recognized Malfoy at this moment.
Noticing Harry and Ron's expressions, Sherlock was somewhat surprised. He looked at Harry: "You know him?"
It wasn't strange for Ron to recognize Malfoy—they were from the same circles, after all.
But Harry supposedly had no connection with him.
Harry was also confused.
He didn't understand how Sherlock could tell, but he nodded anyway.
He had indeed recognized this pale boy with light blond hair.
They'd met briefly at Madam Malkin's robe shop in Diagon Alley when ordering robes.
Harry's impression of him hadn't been good even then, because he'd spoken arrogantly and looked down on Hagrid.
And Hagrid was truly his first real friend after all these years.
The boy had already begun speaking: "People all over the train have been talking about Harry Potter being in this compartment."
Clearly, he too recognized Harry from their previous encounter and was now looking at him with much greater interest than in Diagon Alley:
"So that's you, is it?"
Harry nodded instinctively.
Since this was Harry's acquaintance, Sherlock didn't plan to get involved.
But after surveying the compartment, the boy's gaze settled on him, saying contemptuously:
"I never expected the famous Harry Potter to be sitting with stinking Mudbloods. How disappointing!"
Ron's expression immediately changed.
Malfoy continued his introduction:
"I'm Malfoy—Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle. I came here to..."
Before he could finish, a cold laugh interrupted him.
It came from Ron.
Malfoy immediately turned his head, eyes fixed on Ron, his gaze undisguisedly disgusted:
"You find what I said amusing, do you?
I don't need to ask who you are. Red hair, hand-me-down robes, freckles everywhere, and too many kids to afford proper care.
My father told me all Weasleys are like this—a disgrace to pure blood."
Ron was instantly furious.
Though Sherlock had said similar things earlier, the same words from Malfoy's mouth felt completely different.
Ron reflected that when Sherlock mentioned his old robes and secondhand wand, it was in an emotionless tone, purely stating objective facts.
But Malfoy was purely mocking him.
However, before Ron's anger could explode, Malfoy turned back to Harry, forcing a smile while extending his hand:
"You'll soon find that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter.
You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort... or filthy Mudbloods, do you?
I can help you there."
Clearly, Malfoy was making a considerable effort to curry favor himself with Harry.
Unfortunately, his upbringing meant that even when trying to befriend someone, he maintained a condescending arrogance and swaggering presumption.
If Hermione's arrogance was in her words, then his was written all over his face.
More importantly, he'd just insulted Harry's two newly-made good friends.
So, his proposal was doomed to fail.
Harry, who already had a poor impression of him, naturally wasn't inclined to humor him under these circumstances. He said coldly:
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."
The smile froze on Malfoy's face.
Being rejected so publicly, a faint blush appeared on his pale cheeks.
He withdrew his hand that had been left hanging in the air, saying slowly:
"Potter, if I were you, I'd be very careful, or you'll meet the same end as your parents.
They didn't know any better either—it's because they mixed with the wrong crowd like the Weasleys or people like Hagrid that they were influenced."
As soon as Malfoy finished speaking, Harry immediately stood up.
Without a word, Ron also rose to his feet, his face was now as red as his hair.