Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

As Sherlock said, the students at Hogwarts have now used the fact that Harry is Parseltongue as a vent because of their long-term tension and depression.

In just one noon, the events of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class spread throughout the entire castle, and everyone's eyes on Harry became strange.

Even the Gryffindor students had listened to the rumors, and their attitudes towards him had clearly changed.

At lunch, Harry's roommate Dean walked up to him in horror.

"I'm sorry Harry! I accidentally dropped bread on your bed the other day, I hope you don't hate me, I didn't mean to!"

Harry had a stinky face and didn't want to look up at him at all.

This experience has happened many times since he came to the auditorium.

Many people who felt that they had offended him before came to apologize to him, hoping that he would forgive themselves and not want to be the next target of attack.

"Why can't they use their heads! Am I like that?"

After Dean left, Harry finally asked Ron and Hermione intolerably.

Ron drank the pumpkin juice from the glass and shrugged.

"Now you can see who is the true friend who trusts you the most."

Hermione comforted.

"Actually, as Professor Forrest said, they use you as a vent. When the people who were attacked in the school hospital wake up, they will know the truth."

Harry's mood didn't improve much because of her words. He irritably destroyed the sausages on the plate with his fork.

I don't know when, Neville looked nervous and found him carefully.

"I, I have something I want to tell you, Harry."

Harry said impatiently.

"You don't need to apologize to me, Neville! You didn't offend me! I'm not a descendant of that Slytherin, nor have I ever opened the secret room and let the monsters in it come out and hurt anyone!"

"No, I am not......"

At this moment, George and Fred both sat beside Harry excitedly, and pushed Neville away, who had gathered great courage and wanted to say something to Harry.

"I heard that you have become a descendant of Slytherin, Harry!" George said excitedly, as if he took this as some kind of fun.

Hermione looked at Neville's panicked back and said dissatisfiedly.

"You scared Neville away, he just wanted to say something to Harry."

Fred waved his hand indifferently.

"He was trying to apologize to Harry and let Harry save him from death. He was there when we heard Harry was Parseltongue just now. You didn't see his expression when you heard that Harry was Slater. When Lin passed away, his face was as white as paper. I'm sure he must have been terrified and wanted to beg Harry for mercy."

The twins looked at each other at this time.

"With such a distinguished status, you need a special pomp!"

"We are ready to be your attendants, the great Slytherin descendant!"

Ron frowned as he watched George and Fred look like they were going to take Harry's pain and make some tricks.

"It's not funny at all!"

But George and Fred had left happily, preparing the props and the ceremony.

Harry didn't care about George and Fred's jokes.

"At least they're not afraid of me, aren't they? They probably just want to tell the whole castle in this way that the identity of the Slytherin descendant is just as ridiculous as this joke."

After the Weasley twins made such a fuss, Harry's mood also relaxed.

Anyway, as long as the professors don't think he's the murderer, it doesn't matter what other people think.

Days go by like this.

There have been no attacks at Hogwarts since Harry was identified as a descendant of Slytherin.

The person who really opened the secret room seemed to have disappeared from the castle and never appeared again.

Harry gradually became accustomed to other people's cautious attitude towards him. He and Ron imagined together more than once, how to accept the apology of these people generously when the truth came out.

Neville hadn't seen Harry since that time in the Great Hall.

Until a Saturday in February, a day off for students and professors.

Instead of grading homework in the office or studying advanced magical knowledge in the library, Sherlock dressed up and walked out of Hogwarts Castle.

The UK is still cold and windy in February because it has just passed the coldest weather in January.

With the knitted hat on his head that Professor McGonagall had given him at Christmas, and the thick robe wearing a sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley herself, Sherlock still felt a little chill on the way to Hogsmeade.

At this time, there were very few pedestrians on the streets of Hogsmeade, and most of them hid in the three broom bars or the pig's head bar, enjoying warm butter beer and warm fire.

But Sherlock's destination wasn't a bar.

He walked all the way to the other end of Hogsmeade, where stood the entire wizarding town, the only official Ministry of Magic agency, the "Owl Post Office."

Once inside, he was greeted by a listless receptionist and asked where he was sending his letter.

However, Sherlock took out two xikes directly from his pocket.

"I'm going to use the fireplace."

The young wizard at the front desk suddenly lost the desire to get up from his chair.

He glanced at random, and after confirming that Sherlock had given enough money, he pointed to the back room of the post office.

"The fireplace is in the house. When using floo powder, remember that a small amount is enough. There are always people who think that this amount of money can use half of the powder. I am the one who will be punished for overdosing... "

He muttered, but didn't get up to follow Sherlock to monitor how much Floo powder he used.

Sherlock went into the room with the fireplace alone.

The fire is burning brightly, making this small space warm, and you can't feel the cold outside.

He squeezed out a small pinch of green powder from the small box above the fireplace, sprinkled it into the fire, and said a place name clearly.

"Andrew Cavill's Cabin."

The orange-yellow flame soon turned dark green, and then Sherlock tapped his face with his wand, made a simple change to his eyebrows and hairstyle, and took out a piece from his pocket. A pair of gold wire glasses was worn on his face.

His whole temperament suddenly changed, from a cold-faced handsome guy to a wizard who looked like a capable secretary in the Ministry of Magic.

After the preparations were completed, Sherlock walked into the fireplace, and the next moment, he disappeared into the fire.