Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

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

Especially the history of Hogwarts.

It is said that the four wizards and witches who founded Hogwarts all left behind valuable relics related to themselves.

Before seeing Gryffindor's sword with his own eyes, Sherlock just thought that this thing was a legend, just like the Deathly Hallows in the story of the three brothers in "The Tales of Beedle the Bard", which should not be taken seriously.

But since Gryffindor can leave a sword, the other three founders may also leave some valuable relics.

Now on the wooden shelf of the Lestrange family vault, the carved badger gold cup naturally reminds Sherlock of Helga Hufflepuff, who founded Hufflepuff College!

It must be a Horcrux if it can make the crescent mark on his arm react.

And for a proud person like Voldemort, even if he makes Horcruxes, is it possible that he will use those mediocre and nameless things?

Hufflepuff's golden cup can be made into a Horcrux, Gryffindor's sword has been protected by Dumbledore, and the relics of Ravenclaw and Slytherin may not have been obtained by Voldemort, but now they are hidden in an unknown place.

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

A smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, and this trip to Gringotts was not in vain.

He did not mean to touch the golden cup personally, although even if the fire spell and replication spell on it were triggered, Sherlock had a way to solve it and it would not cause any harm to him, but that would alarm Griphook who was guarding outside the door.

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

After the Horcrux was settled, Sherlock only then set his sights on the gold and silver treasures.

He did not value these wealth very much, but he would not keep it in this vault.

It is only a matter of time before Voldemort returns. If Bella and the others escape from Azkaban, the money will surely fall into their hands if it is left here.

Sherlock certainly would not do such a disguised act of aiding the enemy, but now he does not have the ability to take all the treasures away at once.

He just picked a few of them at random, intending to study the fire spell and replication spell on them after taking them back, and come again after finding a way to remove these spells.

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

"Have you got what you need, sir?" Griphook asked, glancing at the vault through his peripheral vision, and found no signs of any protective spell being triggered inside.

"Do I have to report to Gringotts what I took away?" Sherlock's attitude was still very bad, of course it would be strange if his attitude suddenly improved.

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

"No, of course not, sir."

They got back on the cart and didn't talk any more until they returned to the hall of Gringotts, where Griphook bowed and sent him away.

The old goblin who was carefully weighing the gems with a scale glanced at Griphook who came over to rest.

"Is this Lestrange family member okay?"

Griphook nodded.

"Indeed, he is a Lestrange family member."

"I didn't expect that there are still people in this family who haven't been arrested in Azkaban."

"Keep your voice down, who knows whether he should be arrested or not?"

After leaving Gringotts, Sherlock did not stay in Diagon Alley, but used Apparition to return to Hogwarts.

After removing the disguise on his face, he did not return to his office or go to Dumbledore, but brought the golden cup to the depths of the Forbidden Forest, to Eddie's grave.

This place is very remote and far away from the centaurs' territory, 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 carefully knocked on the cup.

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

These are 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 begun to fail.

Sherlock carefully observed the reaction of the spell and found that these two spells actually relied on the existence of Gringotts to work. Once the things left the range of Gringotts, the fire spell and the copying spell, which were a bit tricky for him, would lose their effect.

This undoubtedly left Sherlock with a lot of strength.

He did not stop and stretched out his hand towards the golden cup.

The crescent mark on his left arm produced an obvious burning sensation. Before Sherlock could recite the spell in a hurry, a cold black mist suddenly rose from the golden cup as if it had a premonition of something!

Sherlock was not unfamiliar with this black mist, because he had experienced it once a few days ago.

The black mist spread above the golden cup and soon formed a handsome but extremely hideous human face!

"Do you know what you are doing?" Sherlock's hand was still on the golden 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 you want to say?" he asked flatly.

The Horcrux itself does not actually have any combat power or language. The diary that has been wreaking havoc in Hogwarts for so long last year has absorbed the energy of Neville and Percy, and finally it can manifest itself and can only be controlled. It was just a basilisk, so even if he saw Voldemort, Sherlock had nothing to worry about.

The ferocious face suddenly became calmer when it saw that Sherlock showed signs of communicating with him.

That unique, bewitching voice sounded from the black mist.

"What you want is nothing more than to become the most powerful. We are Sherlock in this. Find me...find me who is slowly recovering my strength. I will give you what you want." I'll give you everything... There's nothing I can't do. If you are willing to take refuge in me, you can learn all the knowledge in the entire magical world. What can that old guy Dumbledore give you? It’s just nonsense. If you like Hogwarts, I can even make you the future principal 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. It is not easy to become a master of Occlumency by just learning.

Under normal circumstances, his current level would definitely be enough, but Voldemort is Voldemort after all, and even the remaining souls in the Horcruxes still possess extremely powerful Legilimency capabilities.

Except for Sherlock's deep memory, which he deliberately kept the most perfect, he could clearly see all the other insignificant things.

"Well, it does sound very good." He didn't let go of the golden cup, but he nodded with an expressive expression on his face and said, "But I want to ask you for something now."

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

"As long as you want, I can give you! Power! Knowledge! Wealth! Women! Power! Everything! Be loyal to me, Sherlock!"

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

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

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

Sherlock didn't say any more nonsense to him, and softly recited an obscure spell in his mouth.

A burst of gray light suddenly lit up where his hand touched the golden cup!

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

"This magic...who taught you!"

He screamed, and anyone could hear the uneasiness and fear in his voice.

"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 mean to pay attention to him.

The gray light has completely enveloped the entire golden cup. The black smoke extending from the golden cup was forcibly squeezed by a force, as if a pair of invisible hands were patting Voldemort's remnant soul into the palm of his hand and rubbing it. , knead him into a long and thin thread!

"You devil! You must die a good death! Devil!!!"

Voldemort's final screams gradually grew fainter and eventually fell silent.

Sherlock felt that his arms were incredibly hot, but he was not in the mood to care about it at this time. The feeling of absorbing the remnant soul of Voldemort in the diary for the first time came to his heart again.

And this time it’s much stronger than the last time!

His entire body was suspended in the air, with Sherlock as the center, and everything within a ten-meter radius seemed to have stopped moving!

The leaves falling in the wind from the branches stood still in mid-air, and the ants moving on the ground remained motionless. Even the wind stopped, but ten meters away, everything was as usual, like two different worlds. .

At this moment, Sherlock felt like he was the controller of everything in the world!

God's boss is his second child!

What Voldemort, just an incompetent barking noseless old monster.

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

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

His originally green eyes lit up with golden light!

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

In Sherlock's own perception, he became extremely wonderful.

It was an indescribable wonder. He couldn't express anything, but he could directly try to control it.

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

The wind continues to blow, the leaves continue to fall to the ground, and the ants continue to move, as if they have never stopped, it has always been like this.

He gently stretched out one of his hands, without any visible movement. There was no wand or spell, just a simple thought that came to his mind.

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

It was like a ball of plasticine that could be reshaped at will according to his ideas.

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

The tree completed a dozen transformations according to his thoughts in the blink of an eye.

But it seems there's more to it than that.

The thoughts in Sherlock's heart moved slightly, and an explosion sounded not far away, lifting up pieces of soil on the ground. Then a bird flying over the treetop suddenly fell unconscious and fell on the soft grass. A sneaky mouse suddenly jumped up and danced on the spot uncontrollably!

The next moment, something seemed to blow by.

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

Sherlock looked at his hands with a blank look on his face. Just as he was stunned, his body suddenly fell to the ground.

That strange feeling immediately faded away, and he turned back into the ordinary Sherlock. The strange things that happened before seemed to have nothing to do with him.

The last time he "ate" the remnant soul of Voldemort in the diary, because the injuries on his body were too serious, Sherlock didn't really appreciate the feeling of having his soul repaired during this time.

But now he experienced it truly and completely.

The feeling was indescribable, as if he had become the absolute controller on a local scale.

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

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

But he soon came back from his meditative state and shook his head.

No matter how powerful he was at that time, it was not his own strength after all. There was no benefit in indulging in it. On the contrary, it made him forget his fundamental purpose.

After thinking about it, he breathed a sigh of relief and felt that his current mental state had never been better.

He took out his magic wand and waved it at a grass next to him. The grass instantly shattered into countless grass clippings.

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

Then he spreads out the areas of control.

Although it was still within the limit of ten meters, he clearly noticed 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 controlling the magic itself to complete some magic spells that are not too profound.

Without waving his staff, Sherlock looked up at a bowtruckle climbing up the branch and whispered a spell.

"Everything is petrified."

Without the appearance of any magic beam, the bowtruckle suddenly stopped.