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I'm just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, nothing more.

Just having crossed into the world of Harry Potter, Sherlock Forester, without a golden finger or memories of the original owner's life, regarded the offer letter from Hogwarts in his hand with a sneer. "It's just a professorship in Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts." ----------------- Years later, the Daily Prophet interviewed Harry Potter, one of the most outstanding wizards of the 21st century. "What was the happiest day of your life?" An involuntary smile spread across Harry's face. "The day after Professor Forester predicted that I would be taken by Voldemort." "Um… And the day you'd least like to relive?" Harry's face darkened immediately. "Every Christmas." "Why is that?" He covered his face in agony, letting out a sob. "Wu Wu Wu… Because on that day, Professor Forester would wish me Merry Christmas!" ----------------- This is a translation of '不过是黑魔法防御课教授罢了' by '大海船', you can support him on Qidian if you like.

_Riux · Livros e literatura
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176 Chs

Chapter 123: Capturing Sirius

Seated beside the rain-streaked window at The Three Broomsticks, Sherlock and Hilke enjoyed a tranquil moment. Steaming cups of tea graced their hands, while a plate of biscuits beckoned from the table between them. Beyond the glass, the rain persisted, a gentle percussion that tapped against the windowpane.

Hilke savored her tea in quiet contemplation, her thoughts as elusive as the mist outside. Sherlock, however, fixated on the scene beyond. His gaze, intense and unwavering, was lost in the rhythmic dance of the falling rain. Each droplet held a story, each stream of water a fleeting glimpse into a world beyond the window. The room itself seemed cozier, wrapped in the melody of raindrops and the shared silence of kindred spirits.

It was Hilke's idea to linger at the pub instead of making the trek back to the castle. As Dumbledore's appointed observer, Sherlock couldn't simply slip away on his own. With only four weekly classes occupying his light teaching schedule, he found himself with an abundance of free hours. The allure of enjoying a steaming cup of tea while watching the rain cascade outside in the snug pub's embrace was undeniably appealing.

Yet, the hush that had settled between them, once soothing was now turning slightly awkward. The quiet wrapped around them, prompting Sherlock to take action, to disrupt the stillness with the melody of conversation.

"What happened to your two friends? I recall one named Hendrik and the other, Haas," Sherlock questioned.

Hilke's cup of tea had been prepared to be heavy on the tea leaves. Consequently, by the time she reached her last few sips, the tea had turned remarkably bitter. The minuscule, regular sips were clear indications of her discontent with the bitterness. Nevertheless, dutifully, she finished the last drop.

"They're at the inn," she answered.

Sherlock leaned on his hand, intrigued as Hilke began to scrutinize the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup. He realized that she was about to start divination. He held his silence, shifting his gaze from the window to her. This wasn't his first experience witnessing a divination process, but despite its familiarity, the process seemed interesting but unexceptional every time he saw it.

Maintaining a continuous stare at the tea leaves, she appeared to be looking for patterns from the minute fragments soaked at the bottom. However, Hilke's divination appeared unsuccessful this time. Half an hour passed without any change in her expression. Sherlock, in the meantime, had leisurely polished off all the biscuits and poured himself a third cup of tea. He was starting to feel that he had drunk enough to skip supper.

When the rain finally eased off and the sky began to darken, Hilke gave an almost invisible sigh and rose from her seat. Following her cue, Sherlock also stood and shrugged, "Perhaps today wasn't as uneventful as it seems. Although we didn't obtain any leads, it was a nice relaxing stroll outside the castle, don't you think."

While rising, he clipped the edge of the table, disturbing the tea leaves. Hilke, who had just risen, came to a sudden halt, staring at the now-disturbed leaves as if seeing a...a black dog! She turned towards Sherlock with a stern expression.

"Say more such things in the future," she implored. With that, she briskly moved towards the pub exit. Sherlock, understanding that she must have found something finally, overlooked her somewhat curt remark and quickly followed Hilke out of The Three Broomsticks.

The air after the rain was still chilly. Hilke pursued her destination with a brisk pace. Her black boots stepped in a puddle, the muddy water splashing onto the hem of her robe, which seemed to bother her little. Sherlock trailed after her swiftly.

"What are we looking for?" he asked.

"A dog, a large black one," she answered.

Sherlock was taken aback. He remembered seeing a pretty sizable black dog near the garbage can in an alley on his inaugural day in Hogsmeade. He grabbed Hilke's arm, "I know where to find that dog."

They reached a secluded alley. This appeared to be a place where town residents disposed of their wastes. Five large metal dustbins were aligned. Behind the bins, ensconced in shadows was a large black dog. The dog lay seemingly asleep, with Sherlock and Hilke keeping their distance.

"What's so special about this dog?" Sherlock asked, indicating his confusion.

Hilke, focused on the black dog that couldn't possibly see her, regained her calm and composed demeanor, "It'll guide us to further clues."

Sherlock slowly drew his wand, "Alright, perhaps your divination is correct, but before that, we need to capture it."

Worn out from a night of secret passage inspections, Sirius Black was beginning to feel the weight of exhaustion. He hadn't enjoyed a good sleep or a warm meal since the dementors and the Ministry's Aurors had started hounding him, then again it's not like he had any of that at Azkaban either.. A sudden downpour in the afternoon had left him to seek shelter under a damp overhang. He endeavored to recover from the rigorous night's work with some sleep. After assessing that most secret passages were still functional, he hoped to use this opportunity to sneak into Hogwarts and finally apprehend the traitor he had been obsessed with for the last twelve years, Peter Pettigrew.

Half dreaming, it felt like he had caught Peter and he indulged in torturing him, demanding to know the reason for his betrayal of James. But just then, a surge of danger jolted him awake! Sirius discovered a cage forming around him. His heart pounded and he instinctively concluded that his disguise had been discovered. Gathering his strength, he attempted to leap out before the cage formation was complete. But Sherlock was faster! The Transfiguration process was expedited, sealing completely just as Sirius attempted to escape.

Sherlock, satisfied with successfully trapping the large black dog, approached the cage with Hilke, looking at Sirius who was displaying a desperate demeanor. Sherlock mused, "This dog certainly is different, it conveys such humanlike expressions. Reminds me of Hagrid's dog Fang, though Fang is cowardly, he is clever."

Upon hearing Sherlock's observation, hope sparked in Sirius. Deducing from Sherlock and Hilke's attire, which differed from regular Auror gear, and recognizing Sherlock from previous encounters, he reasoned that his disguise wasn't exposed after all. The spark of hope ignited into a flame, there was still a chance for escape. Seeing this, Sirius wagged his tail while looking up at Sherlock, pretending to be just an average dog.

"Impressive, it seems to be trying to act innocently now, we need to be vigilant to avoid its escape," Sherlock nodded in understanding, to which Sirius' panting expression froze midway.

However, Hilke was oblivious to Sherlock's interaction with the clever black dog, she remained focused on Sirius. "Did you detect anything unusual in this town two nights ago?" she asked.

Half of her face obscured by a hood, her eyes seemingly scrutinizing him thoroughly, as if she see through all of his secrets. Her question reminded him of his first night in Hogsmeade, when he witnessed an odd occurrence in the dead of the night, just before a shop owner was murdered. Sirius acquainted himself with the situation and saw hope again. Sirius knew about the recent murder in Hogsmeade, but he had his own troubles to worry about, how could he spare any attention for others? The reason for his capture seemed to revolve around the incident. Upon understanding what they wanted from him, Sirius was relieved. As long as they didn't discover his identity, he could cope.

The caged dog wagged his tail more frantically, signaling that he could guide them somewhere. Unable to communicate verbally, Sherlock couldn't decipher the exact meaning behind the wagging tail, though it seemed like the dog somehow understood Hilke's question. Sherlock decided to grant the black dog some mobility for leading them. Tapping his wand against the cage, it retreated rapidly and disappeared, leaving Sirius tightly bound by countless ropes, Sherlock holding the end of the leash.

Resigned to his situation, Sirius gave up any ideas of seizing an opportunity to escape and faithfully led them towards their destination. With Sherlock leading the way holding the leash, Hilke following behind, and under Sirius' guidance, the trio arrived at the old Hog's Head Inn.

The musty pub was notorious for poor service and a brusque barman. The frequent patrons were typically riff-raff, wizards living on the margins of society. Instead of leading them into the pub, Sirius guided them around a corner to the pub's unkempt backyard. Amid the mess of discarded kegs and broken furniture, he stopped. That was where he had witnessed something suspicious vanishing on the night of the stationery shop owner's murder.

When Sherlock and Hilke inspected the area, they quickly discovered several dry bunches of straw in a corner!

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