Rally At The Bar

It was Hagrid who called over Sherlock.

It was the first time he had met Hagrid since he had seen him in front of the Hogsmeade platform.

At Hagrid's table, beside him, were Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and a fat old man Sherlock had never met.

He has a round bald head, a walrus-like beard, and a big belly. He has a friendly smile on his face, which gave people a good first impression.

Their seats were in front of the window, and through the glass, they could see the rain falling from the dark clouds outside.

Sherlock walked straight over, and Professor Flitwick helped him pull out the empty seat beside him and let him sit down.

Since Sherlock appeared in the bar, the fat old man with the walrus beard has been staring at his face with absent-minded eyes.

"They're really like..."

He whispered, causing everyone sitting there except Sherlock to feel inexplicably depressed.

"Horace." Professor McGonagall frowned and called out the fat old man's name.

Only then did Slughorn come to his senses, he sniffed, and a friendly smile appeared on his face again.

"Sorry, Sherlock, I should be able to call you that, after all, we almost had a father-son relationship back then. Your eyes remind me of your mother, but your looks are inherited from your father. My name is Horace. Slughorn, who used to be your mother's teacher and close friend, you can also call me by my first name like everyone here."

Sherlock looked at the fat old man who radiated a kind-hearted aura and nodded lightly without saying a word.

The scene fell into an awkward silence for a while, so like in class, the humorous Professor Flitwick made a timely speech to liven up the atmosphere.

"Listening to the students' recent reactions, you have done a very good job as a professor, Sherlock."

"I just did my job." Sherlock said neither humbly nor arrogantly.

Hagrid laughed heartily.

"It's already a very good thing to be able to do your job well in the position of professor. Your previous colleagues did not have such an excellent performance like you. When Harry and the others came to my hut, they talked a lot about you. They said your classes were fun."

He is not only complimenting but also faintly envious in his tone.

Among the people sitting here, he was the only one who did not hold a professorship. Except for Sherlock, the other three were either a former professor or a professor.

"That reminds me of Melos, the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts when I was the Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts."

Slughorn was also obviously a talkative person, and he took up Hagrid's topic lightly.

"He is one of the most serious and responsible professors I have ever met, but he was too idealistic and always thought that black magic was controllable, but fortunately his defence skills were indeed at a high level, and he did not produce any problems during his teaching period."

"I know his theories and I've read his books, he's talented in teaching, and he's in the top ten among the highest-achieving teachers at Hogwarts, but his attitude towards magic I can't say I could Agree."

Professor McGonagall said solemnly, "He thinks about magic too objectively, and always thinks that all magic that exists has its value to be used, and this kind of thinking is naturally passed on to his students, and then there is a big problem. "

Flitwick reassured: "This can't be said to be his fault. Academics can propose any constructive discussions. As for how each person understands, in the end, it's a matter of that person's thoughts."

Slughorn laughed.

"Are you also condemning me like this? Minerva, after all, I used to be that person's teacher."

"I didn't mean that."

"I know you didn't mean that, it's just a joke," Slughorn said, turning his eyes to Sherlock.

"I heard that you, Sherlock, are a master of Defense Against the Dark Arts, what about you? What do you think about the dark magic?"

Sherlock picked up the glass of whisky on the table, took a sip, and said flatly.

"This question can be asked in another way. In the end, dark magic is only a type of magic. As long as it is magic, the spells are only appearances. The real core of magic lies in the wizard's heart."

"And black magic is the dark side of the human heart. Magic is not good or bad, but there is always a human's heart at it's core. At the moment when dark magic is used, the user's human heart must be extremely dark, and the corruption of the human heart may lead to all sorts of disasters. Instead, the harm is its affects on the user, which is an inevitable erosion."

After he finished speaking, the three professors sitting here all applauded softly.

Hagrid was dumbfounded when he heard it, and was dumbfounded at this time, but to avoid appearing out of place, he also clapped his big hand twice with a bewildered face.

Flitwick exclaimed.

"Wonderful theory Sherlock, all spells and spells are just appearances. What truly embodies magic is the wizard's heart. This sentence is enough to make all spell researchers re-examine their research."

"Even if you don't come to Hogwarts as a defence professor, you will have a great future in the wizarding world." Professor McGonagall said with certainty.

"With the same excellent understanding of magic as your mother, if I was still a professor and taught you, I would have invited you to join my club." Slughorn wasn't stingy with his praise.

There was a lot of time on Saturday, and they chatted in the bar until noon.

After Sherlock made some remarks on the idea of ​​dark magic at the beginning, he began to enter the mode of cherishing words like gold, silently observing the man Slughorn.

This old man who looked funny and friendly was not as consistent in his attitude towards everyone as he is now.

When chatting, Sherlock could feel that he was deliberately ignoring Hagrid.

That attitude seemed to be disdain for Hagrid, a wizard who had no talent, knowledge, or social status.

Near noon, when Sherlock and the other five had finished their third glass of alcohol, Slughorn suddenly smiled and said to Professor McGonagall and the other three.

"It's getting late. You should also prepare to go back for lunch, Minerva. I don't know if you can leave some personal space for Sherlock and me. I have something to say to him."

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Hagrid looked at each other. They nodded and stood up from their seats. After saying goodbye to Sherlock, they left the three broomstick bars.

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Editor: Remember kids alcohol is bad so don't drink in large amounts

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