Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

Harry was marveling at the size of the headmistress.

He believed that if Madame Maxime and Professor Dumbledore were to fight against each other on the premise that no one could use magic, not even three Professor Dumbledore would be her opponent.

"Thank you for your concern Madam, but with Professor Forrester here we will be safe all the way." Harry said.

Madame Maxime nodded, as if she had something else to do.

"At noon, you can go to the banquet hall to try bouillabaisse (French fish soup). I have always thought the craftsmanship of the house elves in our school is pretty good. I have to go to handle some official business. I wish you a good time at school. happy."

Watching her leave, Harry whispered into Sherlock's ear.

"I think she might be related to Hagrid!"

Sherlock flicked Harry's head, causing him to hold his head and moan.

"I told you to stop talking about others behind their backs and not to make fun of other people's special features. This is not good."

When faced with Sherlock's teachings, Harry behaved very honestly.

They continued to wander around Beauxbatons, and met a student who was staying at the school, and chatted with her for a while about their daily life in school.

From her words, it can be heard that the atmosphere of this school is more serious than Hogwarts, with more rules.

In other words, Hogwarts was not as relaxed as it is now. It was only after Dumbledore became the principal that the atmosphere became more relaxed.

At noon, they tasted the mixed fish soup recommended by Madame Maxime at the Beauxbatons banquet hall.

Neither Harry nor Sherlock are used to drinking, they prefer to eat toast here.

The fire is good and the taste is great, which is highly praised by Mr. Porter, the savior.

After lunch, they sat in the garden for a while to eat, and then got up to leave Beauxbatons.

Shylock's itinerary in France was all improvised.

For example, he only made the decision to come to Beauxbatons when he was in Caen.

As for their next destination, they listened to the advice of Garrel, the general affairs teacher who put them into Beauxbatons.

"Next to the Muggle town called Saint-Gaudan at the foot of the Pyrenees, there is a wizard market town called Aspe. There are French, Portuguese, Spanish and some African wizards gathered there. You can go to the warm bar to hang out. Go shopping, the wine and steaks there are very good. ”

After getting on the flying car again and heading north along the Pyrenees Mountains, Sherlock took Harry to the wizarding town called Aspe.

It looks more lively than Hogsmeade.

The main reason is that the Pyrenees is right at the border of Spain and France. If you cross the ocean, it is not very far from Africa.

Therefore, not only French wizards, but wizards from surrounding countries also gather in this town to play, and it has the most prosperous magic business street in southern Europe.

Seeing that about one-fifth of the people on the street were black, Harry couldn't help but sigh.

"There are quite a few African wizards here."

Sherlock patted him on the shoulder and asked him to listen carefully to what the black wizards were saying, and then Harry discovered that most of these people actually spoke French.

"They're all French!" Harry asked, glaring.

Sherlock made a shushing gesture to him, indicating that he should keep his voice down.

"This is normal. The concept of pure-blood wizards in France is not as strong as that in the UK. Their mixed-race wizards and Muggle wizards account for a very large proportion. In French Muggle society, the proportion of black people is increasing year by year. Naturally, here in the wizarding world It’s also been influenced a lot, so don’t just think that someone is of African descent when you see a black wizard.”

Harry nodded in understanding and followed Sherlock as he wandered blindly through the streets of the wizarding town of Aspe.

It was indeed very lively here. It should be regarded as the main gathering place for wizards in southern Europe. Harry bought a lot of interesting things along the streets.

In wizarding society, Sherlock doesn't need to pay Harry.

Judging from his status as a wizard, Harry's ancestors ran a shampoo company, and the property left to him was much richer than Sherlock's small treasury, making him a wealthy man.

Just when Sherlock was being pestered by the owner of a potion shop to sell him the antidote to his love potion, Harry suddenly seemed to have made some important discovery. He widened his eyes in one direction and his whole person changed. Gotta stay still.

The shopkeeper who Sherlock got rid of noticed something strange about Harry and looked at him, finding that he was looking at a young wizard girl.

The witch has long, bright silver-white hair, delicate facial features, and skin as white as snow. The most important thing is that the whole person exudes a fascinating temperament.

The experienced Sherlock was not charmed by the witch. He knocked Harry who was stunned with his eyes and woke him up.

"Hey, hey, you're drooling all over your chest."

Harry's face suddenly turned red and he hurriedly wiped the corners of his mouth, only to find that there was nothing on it.

"You lied to me! Professor!" Harry said resentfully.

"If I don't wake you up, your dick will really come out." Sherlock said as he grabbed Harry by the collar, who still had a reluctant look on his face, and carried him away, "That girl has The question is, she must have the blood of some special magical creature, otherwise she would not exude that kind of temperament unconsciously. I advise you to be more awake. "

It was approaching evening and it was getting dark. Sherlock took Harry directly to the friendly bar recommended by the old witch Garrel and walked in.

The warm bar is just like its name. The atmosphere inside is indeed very warm. The warm yellow lights and soft music make the whole bar look very stylish.

Sherlock took Harry to find an empty seat by the window and ordered two steaks and a bottle of red wine.

"Do you want to try it again this time?" Sherlock uncorked the red wine and gestured to Harry.

Harry repeatedly waved his hand and refused. The last time he tasted red wine in Saumur, he spat it out. This thing did not taste like grape juice as he imagined.

Sherlock ordered him a glass of orange juice. As Garrel said, the steak here was indeed very good, and both Harry and Sherlock were very satisfied with it.

When they were halfway through eating, Harry suddenly touched Sherlock's arm and motioned for him to look towards the front of the bar.

The silver-haired girl they saw on the street just now opened the door and walked in.

She was not alone. She was accompanied by a young wizard who looked very attentive and was about the same age as Sherlock.

Sherlock just glanced at it, turned his head, tapped Harry's plate with his fork, and reminded him.

"Eat your food well and don't look around."

"She should be a student of Beauxbatons." Although Harry returned his attention to the steak, it was obvious that he was still thinking about that fascinating girl.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and said.

"How did you know?"

While they were talking, the girl and the wizard who was following her came to sit down next to them. This was the last empty seat in the bar.

Harry signaled Sherlock with his eyes, and Sherlock looked in the direction directed by his gaze. Sure enough, on the sleeves of the girl's robe, he saw Beauxbatons' two golden wands' crossed emblems.

Sherlock shrugged at him and indicated that he had better eat his meal honestly.

We have been eating too much delicious food in France recently, and both Sherlock and Harry's stomachs have been enlarged.

One steak per person could no longer satisfy their appetites. After eating, they ordered an additional portion of baked snails and two bowls of onion soup.

"Where are we going next? Professor." Harry asked as he chewed a snail.

Sherlock took this time to take out the map of France he always carried and looked at their next travel route.

"Well... we are going to go north next. If we continue to go south, we will reach Spain. We will go around Switzerland from the northeast, go to Lyon, Geneva, and then go to the small Interkenner Visit the town before heading to Paris.”

"Do we have enough time?"

"Of course it's in time, as long as we get to Nicoléme's residence in Paris before August. Before that, we can go anywhere."

While they were chatting, a somewhat arrogant but pleasant voice suddenly interrupted and asked in English with a strong French accent.

"Are you also going to find Mr. Nick Flamel?"

Sherlock and Harry turned to look at the person who interrupted, it was the silver-haired girl.

Harry heard her take the initiative to chat and couldn't wait to pick up the conversation right away.

But after seeing Sherlock's eyes, he lowered his head and drank the onion soup with a guilty conscience.

Sherlock persuaded Harry to retreat with his eyes, and he looked at the girl expressionlessly.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

The girl raised her head, revealing her slender white neck.

"Fleur Delacour, sixth-year Beauxbatons student."

Sherlock nodded.

"Invited by an elder, we are indeed going to Paris to find Mr. Nick Flamel."

"I borrowed it! Miss Sir, I'm sorry, I borrowed it!"

At this time, a goblin in gray robes passed between their two dining tables and accidentally touched Fleur's chair.

Sherlock frowned slightly and looked at the goblin walking over without making a sound.

Fleur continued to talk enthusiastically.

"I'm going to visit Mr. Nick Flamel soon. Madame Maxime said that he seems to have something good to give away..."

When she said this, Sherlock had already stood up from his seat. He put on his coat and picked up Harry who pretended to be drinking onion soup but was actually eavesdropping on Fleur. .

"Sorry, Miss Delacour, we have something to do and need to leave first." As Sherlock spoke, he glanced at the goblin who was walking quickly towards the fireplace. "Before you leave, I suggest you check yourself. Is there something important missing? I wish you good luck."

With that said, Sherlock dragged the confused Harry out of the bar.

In the end, before Harry left, his eyes towards the girl named Fleur were full of pity.

"Professor, are your blessings to Miss Delacour just sincere?"

After leaving the bar, Harry followed Sherlock and asked.

Sherlock curled his lips.

"That unlucky girl had her things stolen without even realizing it. Of course, I sincerely wish her good luck in the future."

Harry could only mourn Fleur in private.

What a poor girl to be cursed for losing something.