Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

Sherlock has been in this world for more than two years. In addition to learning magic spells, he has also done a lot of research on the history of the magic world.

Especially about the school history of Hogwarts.

Legend has it that the four witches and wizards who founded Hogwarts left their own precious relics.

Before seeing Gryffindor's sword with his own eyes, Sherlock just thought this thing was a legend, just like the Deathly Hallows in the story of the three brothers in "The Story of Bedouin the Poet", and it couldn't be taken seriously.

But since Gryffindor can leave behind a sword, the other three founders may not also leave any valuable relics.

Now placed on the wooden shelf of the Lestrange family vault, the golden cup of the carved little badger naturally reminds Sherlock of the Helga Hufflepuff who founded the Hufflepuff Academy!

If the crescent moon mark on his arm can react, it must be a Horcrux.

And a person as arrogant as Voldemort, even if he makes Horcruxes, is it possible to use those mediocre and nameless things?

Hufflepuff's gold cup can make him into a Horcrux, Gryffindor's sword has always been protected by Dumbledore, and the relics of Ravenclaw and Slytherin may not have been given to Voldemort, and they are now being He is hiding in an unknown place.

In this vault, Sherlock obtained not only a golden cup, but more importantly, expanded information on other Horcrux clues.

There was a smile on the corner of his mouth, and this trip to Gringotts was not in vain.

He didn't mean to touch the golden cup with his own hands. Although Sherlock could solve the problem even if the Fire Spell and Duplication Spell were triggered, it wouldn't cause much damage to him, but that would alarm the Griphook who was guarding outside the door.

He directly used the control magic to take the golden cup off the wooden shelf, then took out a prepared wooden box from his bag and put the cup in it.

After the Horcrux was settled, Sherlock turned his attention to those gold and silver treasures at this time.

He doesn't take these wealth seriously, but he won't keep it in this vault.

Voldemort's comeback is a matter of time, and if Bella and the others escape from Azkaban, if the money stays here, it will definitely fall into their hands.

Of course, Sherlock wouldn't do something like this in disguise, but now he doesn't have the ability to take these treasures away all at once.

I just randomly selected a few from them, intending to take them back and study the fire spells and copy spells above, and come again when I find a way to remove these spells.

The purpose of this trip was completed, and Sherlock walked out of the vault with a cold expression.

"You've got what you need? Sir."

As Griphook asked, he glanced at the vault through the corner of his eye, and found no sign of the protective spell being triggered inside.

"Do I have to report to Gringotts what I took?" Sherlock's attitude was still very bad, of course, it would be surprising if his attitude suddenly changed for the better.

Griphook closed the vault door again and returned the key to Sherlock.

"No, of course not, sir."

They got back into the trolley and didn't talk any further until they were back in the Gringotts hall, where Griphook bowed and sent him away.

The old goblin, who was carefully weighing the gemstone with a balance, glanced at the pull ring that came to rest.

"Is there any problem with this Lestrange?"

Griphook nodded.

"Indeed the Lestranges."

"I can't believe that this family has not been arrested in Azkaban yet."

"Be quiet, who knows if he should be caught?"

After Sherlock left Gringotts, he didn't stop in Diagon Alley and used Apparition to return to Hogwarts.

Withdrawing the disguise on his face, he did not go back to his office or go to Dumbledore, but took the golden cup to the depths of the Forbidden Forest, in front of Eddie's grave.

This place is very remote, and it is also far away from the territory of the centaurs, so there is no need to worry about being disturbed by anyone.

Sherlock took the golden cup out of the wooden box, pulled out his wand, and tapped it carefully on the cup.

The copy spell and fire spell attached to it are naturally not ordinary spells.

These are all magics unique to goblins, and it is not so easy for wizards to crack them.

But before he could think about finding a countermeasure, the two goblin spells on the golden cup had already started to fail by themselves.

Sherlock carefully observed the reaction of the spell, and found that these two spells actually depended on the existence of Gringotts to exert their effect. Once something left the scope of Gringotts, it would be a bit tricky for him to make fire spells and copying. The spell will lose its effect.

This undoubtedly left Sherlock with a lot of strength.

He didn't stop any longer, and stretched out his hand to the golden cup.

The crescent moon mark on the left arm produced an obvious burning sensation. Sherlock chanted a spell before he came, and a cold black mist suddenly rose from the golden cup as if he had sensed something!

Sherlock is not unfamiliar with this black fog, because he had experienced it himself just a few days ago.

The black mist filled the top of the golden cup, and soon formed a handsome but extremely hideous face!

"Do you know what you are doing!"

Sherlock's hand was still on the gold cup. He looked at Riddle's face with a nose, and there was no panic on his face.

"Oh? Do you have any last words to say?" he asked flatly.

The Horcrux itself doesn't actually have any combat power and words. Last year, the diary that was raging at Hogwarts for so long, absorbed the energy of Neville and Percy, and finally can manifest the entity, there is only manipulation. Basilisk's ability is only, so even if he sees Voldemort, Sherlock has nothing to worry about.

Seeing that Sherlock showed signs of communicating with him, the hideous face suddenly calmed down.

That unique, bewitching voice sounded from the black mist.

"What you want is nothing more than the most powerful strength, we are the same Sherlock, go to me... Find me who is slowly recovering strength, I will make you want I'll give you everything.... Nothing is impossible. If you are willing to rely on me, you can learn all the knowledge in the entire magical world at will. What can that old fellow Dumbledore give you? Only a few It's just a nonsense, if you like Hogwarts, I can even make you the future headmaster here, as long as you are willing to surrender to me, as long as you are willing to join us."

Sherlock has deliberately learned Occlumency, but this kind of magic needs to be mastered over time, and it is not easy to become a master of Occlumency by just learning it.

Under normal circumstances, his current level is absolutely sufficient, but Voldemort is Voldemort after all, and even if it is only the remnant soul in the Horcrux, he has an extremely powerful ability to take soul.

Except for Sherlock's intention to keep the most perfect deep memory, he can see clearly the other irrelevant things.

"Well, it sounds really good." He didn't let go of the golden cup, but nodded with an expression on his face, "but I want to ask you for something right now."

The face formed by the black mist looked at Sherlock with a smile, and said loudly in a hoarse but not very low voice.

"I can give you anything you want! Power! Knowledge! Wealth! Women! Power! Everything! Allegiance to me, Sherlock!"

Sherlock also had a smile on his face, and his smile was very bright.

"If you are so generous, then leave you to me, Riddle."

"Of course!" Voldemort's remnant of the soul agreed, and then he felt that something was wrong, and the face formed by the black mist showed a blank expression, "What? Me?"

Sherlock didn't talk to him any more unnecessary nonsense, and uttered an obscure incantation softly in his mouth.

A burst of gray light suddenly lit up where his hand was in contact with the golden cup!

The moment this light lit up, Voldemort's remnant soul in the golden cup finally realized what he wanted to do!

"This magic... who taught you!"

He screamed, and the unease and fear in that voice could be heard by anyone.

"How dare you! Do you know what you are doing! Do you know what you are doing!"

Sherlock's face was cold, and he didn't want to ignore him.

The gray light has completely wrapped the entire golden cup, and the black smoke extending from the golden cup was forcibly squeezed by a force, like a pair of invisible hands, slapped Voldemort's remnant soul in the palm of his hand and kept rubbing it. , kneaded him into a slender silk thread!

"You devil! You must not die! Devil!!!"

Voldemort's last scream faded away, and finally fell silent.

Sherlock felt his arms were astonishingly hot, but he was in no mood to care about it at this time, and the feeling of absorbing Voldemort's remnant soul in the diary for the first time came back to his heart.

And this time it's even stronger than the last time!

His entire body was suspended in the air, with Sherlock as the center, within a radius of ten meters, as if everything had stopped moving!

The leaves falling from the branches with the wind were still in the air, the ants on the ground who were moving did not move, even the wind stopped, and ten meters away, everything was as usual, like two different worlds .

At this moment, Sherlock felt that he was the master of everything in the world!

Heaven's boss, his second child!

What Voldemort, an incompetent barking old noseless monster.

As long as you think about it, you can easily erase him from this world without even moving your fingers.

Sherlock, who was floating in the air, slowly opened his eyes.

In his originally blue eyes, a golden light lit up!

The light was so captivating, but no one saw it at this time.

And in Sherlock's own perception, he became incomparably wonderful.

It is an indescribable wonder. He has no way to express anything, but he can directly get started and try to control it.

The world with a radius of ten meters began to move again.

The wind continued to blow, the leaves continued to fall, the ants continued to move, as if they never stopped, and always have been.

He gently stretched out one of his hands, but he couldn't see the slightest movement, no wand or spell, just a simple thought in his mind.

In front of him, the big tree with lush branches suddenly twisted up!

It's like a ball of plasticine, which can be reshaped at will according to his ideas.

Flowers, grass, stones, pigs, cows, horses, sheep.

In an instant, the tree completed a dozen transformations according to his ideas.

But there seems to be more than that.

The thoughts in Sherlock's heart moved slightly, and an explosion sounded not far away, lifting up the soil on the ground, and then a bird passing by the treetop suddenly fell into a coma and fell on the soft grass. A sneaky mouse suddenly jumped up and danced uncontrollably!

The next moment, it was like something was blowing past.

The blasted earth pit was restored, the bird woke up in a daze and took off again, the mouse's body returned to normal, and fled away in horror.

Sherlock stared blankly at his hand, and while he was stunned, his body suddenly fell to the ground.

That wonderful feeling disappeared immediately, and he changed back to the ordinary Sherlock, all the wonderful things that happened before, as if it had nothing to do with him.

The last time he "eaten" Voldemort's remnant soul in the diary, because the injuries on his body were too serious, Sherlock didn't really appreciate the feeling of the soul stitching up for this period of time.

And now he has experienced it in a real and complete way.

The feeling is indescribable, as if he has become the absolute master of the local area.

All laws must be reflected according to his will, and no matter how everything changes, he must nod and agree!

Sherlock, who had returned to normal, sat on the ground with a thoughtful expression on his face, recalling the feeling just now.

But soon he recovered from his brooding state and shook his head.

No matter how strong he was at that time, it was not his own power after all. There was no benefit to indulging in it, but it made him forget his fundamental purpose.

After thinking about it, he was relieved, and felt that his current mental state had never been better.

He took out his wand and waved at the grass beside him~www.NovelMTL.com~ The grass shattered into countless grass clippings in an instant.

This was a silent smashing spell, and Sherlock could clearly feel that the intensity of the spell he directly used was much higher than before.

Then he spreads out the domain of control.

Although it was still the limit range of ten meters, it clearly made him perceive the difference.

The previous control magic was basically used to control matter, and the use of magic was also through the wand as a medium.

But now, it seems that he can directly rely on the control magic itself to complete some not too esoteric spells.

Without waving his staff, Sherlock looked up at a casket that was climbing up on a branch, and chanted a spell softly.

"It's all petrified."

Without the appearance of any magic beam, the tree-protecting pot suddenly stopped.

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