Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

Before the start of the Hogwarts vacation, after the final dinner, Dumbledore called Sherlock into the office alone.

He took a letter from the drawer and gave it to Sherlock.

"If you have nothing to do in the summer vacation, you can visit an old friend of mine in this part of France, and he will give you something."

Sherlock took the letter curiously, and saw on the envelope what Dumbledore said, the friend's name.

"Nick Lemay, this is... the master alchemist who created the Philosopher's Stone?" he said in surprise.

Dumbledore wasn't surprised that Sherlock had heard of Nick Lemay's name, a friend whose reputation in the wizarding world was no less than his own.

"That's right, that Nick Lemay, but he has destroyed his Philosopher's Stone now, and is planning to dispose of the remaining Philosopher's Stone fragments that still contain some magic power. Planning to give it to some young people, this It's just a letter of introduction, and if you're interested in this, you can visit him at the above address before August."

Fragments of the Philosopher's Stone?

Sherlock blinked at the letter, he thought it was still very interesting.

Although he still has no decision to go, but keep the letter for now, maybe when he will be interested?

After Dumbledore saw him put the letter away, he thought for a moment and then continued.

"I remember where you lived, not far from Harry's aunt's house?"

Sherlock nodded.

"It's a coincidence, it's only two streets away."

Dumbledore took a piece of parchment from his desk, wrote something on it, stuffed it into an envelope, and handed it back to Sherlock.

"If you decide to go to Nick during the summer, take Harry with you by the way. You can give this letter to his aunt and she'll let Harry go with you."

Sherlock took the letter unexpectedly.

"Don't worry, what happened to Harry following me halfway?"

"Protecting your students is the most basic duty of a teacher." Dumbledore blinked and said with a smile, "Isn't it?"

"Well, you're right, if I go, I'll take care of Harry's safety." Sherlock promised.

"One more thing, you have the right to know." Dumbledore's expression became slightly serious, "When the next semester starts, you will still be the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I will hire an assistant professor of defense for you. ."

Sherlock was slightly taken aback, he asked.

"I don't mind if you hire me an assistant, but why do you hire me alone?"

Dumbledore shook his head helplessly.

"Because someone needs a job. Hogwarts doesn't have a suitable position this year, so I'll have to recruit him as an assistant."

Sherlock nodded in understanding.

He carefully recalled the few plots in his memory. The assistant professor Dumbledore recruited for him should be Harry's third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor under the normal plot in the original book.

The day after the conversation with Dumbledore, the semester break at Hogwarts officially began.

Sherlock didn't take the Hogwarts Express again this time, wasting the whole day to get home.

Instead, he used Apparition directly. One second he was still in Hogsmeade, and the next second he had flashed to the door of his house in Devon.

Although the house has not been cleaned for nearly a year, it still looks very clean.

There is no house elf in the Sherlock family who usually handles housework, but most of the furniture in the house has been enchanted. Even if he is not at home, the furniture can clean the room by itself.

So when he got home, he didn't have anything to do. He simply used a few cleaning spells on some supplies that had no self-cleaning ability, and then sat in the study.

"A year! A whole year! You haven't come back! Do you still have my mother in your eyes! You bastard! You scum! You disgusting scum!"

In the study, the sharp female voice was still constantly shouting, accusing, and berating Sherlock as a sinner with no flesh.

But Sherlock didn't care, but quietly looked at the magical portrait of the original owner's mother hanging on the wall, and tried to communicate with her.

"I went to Hogwarts to be a professor this year, so I didn't come back."

However, the witch's bitter taunt sounded immediately.

"You deserve it too! The headmaster of the magic school was blind to recruit you! You useless bastard! Trash! Trash!  …"

After trying to communicate to no avail, Sherlock sighed, a piece of red silk on the table slowly flew out of thin air, and hung himself on the frame, covering the portrait of the original owner's mother, making her shut up.

Then Sherlock didn't take out his wand and didn't chant.

All the books on the bookshelf flew out of the bookshelf by themselves, flying lightly in front of him, and circling neatly around him.

This is a kind of magic that Sherlock learned without a teacher after the soul was stitched successfully.

His magic can interfere with reality in its most primitive form.

Including but not limited to moving objects, directing objects to complete uncomplicated actions, simple deformation of objects, and so on.

In short, it's a bit like a weakened version of the state when you kill the basilisk yourself.

The combat power is limited, but it is extremely convenient to use in daily life.

Sherlock picked one of the magic books that revolved around him, and then the rest of the books flew back to the bookshelf by themselves, neatly arranged according to the previous order.

Back at home, Sherlock's life was also monotonous.

He usually studies all kinds of magic in his study, especially strengthening the practice of the Patronus Charm.

In his vague memory, it seemed that there would be Dementors at Hogwarts when the next semester started.

Of course, he had to master the spells that were especially effective against Dementors, like the Patronus Charm.

But this kind of emotionally demanding spell can't be used just by practice, and Sherlock didn't force too much, as long as it could play a role at a critical time.

After two weeks of staying at home.

Sherlock finally walked out of the study. He found out the will agreement that the old butler from the original owner's father had given him at this time last year.

It has been a whole year since he got this will agreement.

Because of going to Hogwarts to be a professor, Sherlock never paid much attention to it, but after learning about the unusualness of the original owner's parents through continuous in-depth understanding of Hogwarts.

Sherlock felt that he was going to meet his cheap father who had never been masked this summer.

Through Slughorn's words, he could hear that the original owner's parents should have no resistance to the wizard at first, and even agreed with Slughorn to be Sherlock's godfather.

Then why did the original owner's mother turn into the crazy look in the portrait, and the original owner's father hated wizards unabashedly, forcing his son to inherit his inheritance only by staying away from wizards?

Sherlock was very curious about the secret behind it.

He also specifically studied the status of the original owner's father's family in the Muggle world.

The Cavendish family, the hereditary Duke of Devonshire in the United Kingdom, has produced many scientists and politicians in normal history, and has a great influence in British politics.

But the world Sherlock is now in is of course different from the world in his previous life.

The Cavendish family still holds the title of Duke of Devonshire, but after the nineteenth century, the family began to decline.

The key lies in the scarcity of direct descendants of heirs, starting from Sherlock's great-grandfathers, it is a single lineage.

If a boy was not born accidentally in the middle, the title would be replaced by the side branch of Cavendish.

Until the generation of Sherlock's biological father, on the bright side of the British Muggle community, he was already in an embarrassing situation with no successor.

Sherlock's identity is very secret, and no one knows that this generation of Duke of Devonshire actually has a son outside.

From this, it can be seen how cruel Sherlock's father is. He is now sick in bed, and obviously he will not have long to live. Sherlock is his only biological heir.

But if Sherlock doesn't promise never to be in contact with the wizarding world, he'd rather give his title and fortune to a sideline relative.

Sherlock didn't care much about the title of the Duke of Devonshire and those family properties that normal people couldn't spend in a few lifetimes.

For wizards with real pursuits and ideals, these fame and fortune in the Muggle world are useless at all, and they are not as useful as a useful magic notebook.

Sherlock felt that he was not so empty of all four, but he was also a wizard who had aspirations. It didn't matter what inheritance he inherited. The key was to find out why the original owner's parents had such changes before and after, and there was a huge contrast.

So he decided to call the housekeeper today and try to get in touch with his cheap father.

There was only one ring on the other end of the phone, and it was quickly connected. Before waiting for the other side to speak, Sherlock said calmly.

"I'm Sherlock Forrest, and I want to meet him."

There seemed to be agitated, there was no sound for a while, and after the thick gasping sound, an old voice trembled in response.

"Sorry~www.novelmt.com~ young master, I'll pick you up now."

Sherlock hung up the phone, hesitating to meet the father of this world for the first time. It was estimated that he was still in the hospital. Should he bring some gifts.

But after thinking about the rigid relationship between the original owner and his father, the idea was dismissed.

Just passing by empty-handed is in line with the original owner's character.

He didn't have to wait long, and soon there was a luxury car parked under his small building.

The old man Sherlock had seen a year ago got out of the car, and just as he was about to ring the doorbell, Sherlock walked out of the house by himself.

"Master."

Sherlock nodded slightly.

The old man immediately stepped aside, stood aside, opened the car door respectfully, waited for Sherlock to sit in, then closed the car door, got into the co-pilot, and headed to the hospital in London.