It's just a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Chapter 104 Poor Miss Delacour
Harry was marveling at the headmistress's size.

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

"Thank you for your concern ma'am, but with Professor Forrest around, we were safe all the way," said Harry.

Madame Maxime nodded, she seemed to have other things.

"You can go to the banquet hall to try Bouillabaisse (French mixed fish soup) at noon. I have always thought that the craftsmanship of the house elves in our school is not bad. I am going to deal with some business, I wish you a good time at school happy."

Seeing her leaving figure, Harry whispered in Sherlock's ear.

"I think she might be related to Hagrid!"

Sherlock flicked Harry's head straight away, causing him to hold his head and howl.

"I told you to stop talking about others behind their backs, and don't make fun of other people's special places. It's not good."

When faced with Sherlock's teachings, Harry was still very honest.

They continued to wander around Beauxbatons, and met a student who was staying at school, and chatted with her about their usual life at school.

From her words, it can be heard that the atmosphere of this school is more serious than that of Hogwarts, and there are only a lot more rules.

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

At noon, they tasted the miscellaneous fish soup recommended by Mrs. Maxime in the banquet hall of Beauxbaton.

Both Harry and Sherlock are not used to drinking, they prefer to eat here toast.

It is well-cooked and tastes great, and it is well received by the savior Mr. Porter.

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

Sherlock's itinerary in France was improvised.

For example, coming to Beauxbaton was a decision he made when he was in Caen.

As for where to go next, they listened to the opinion of Gary, the general affairs teacher who put them in Beauxbatons.

"Beside the Muggle town named Saint-Gaudens 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 for a while. Go shopping, the wine and steaks there are very good.”

Re-boarding the flying car and heading north along the Pyrenees, Sherlock took Harry to the wizarding town named Aspe.

This place looks more lively than Hogsmeade.

The main reason is that the Pyrenees is at the junction of Spain and France, and if it is across the ocean, it is not very far from Africa.

Therefore, not only French wizards, but also wizards from surrounding countries gathered in this small town to play, and it had the most prosperous magic commercial street in southern Europe.

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

"There are quite a few African wizards here."

Sherlock patted him on the shoulder and told him to listen carefully to the black wizards, and then Harry realized that most of them spoke French.

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

Sherlock made a hissing gesture to him, signaling him to keep his voice down.

"This is normal. The pure-blood concept of 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. And the proportion of blacks in French Muggle society is increasing year by year. Naturally, in the magic world It's affected a bit too. So don't just look at a black wizard and assume they're African."

Harry nodded half-comprehensively, and followed Sherlock for a stroll on the streets of the wizarding town of Aspen.

It was really lively here, and it should be regarded as the main gathering place for wizards in southern Europe. Harry bought a lot of interesting things along the street.

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

Calculated according to the status of a wizard, Harry's ancestors opened a shampoo company, and the property left to him is much thicker than Sherlock's small coffers, and he is a proper dog.

Just when Sherlock was pestered by the owner of a potion shop to sell him the love potion antidote, Harry suddenly seemed to have made a major discovery, and his eyes widened in one direction, and his whole body became pale. Be dazed.

The shopkeeper that Sherlock got rid of, noticed Harry's strangeness, and looked into his eyes, and found that he was looking at a young wizard girl.

The witch has long, beautiful silver-white hair, exquisite facial features, fairer skin than snow, and the most important thing is that the whole person exudes a fascinating temperament.

The seasoned Sherlock was not charmed by the witch, he knocked on Harry with squinted eyes and woke him up.

"Hey, hey, your saliva is going to your chest."

Harry blushed suddenly and frantically wiped the corner of his mouth, only to find that there was nothing on it.

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

"If I don't wake you up again, your poop will really come out." Sherlock said, grabbing the back collar of Harry, who was still reluctant to part, and carrying him away, "That girl has The question is, she should have the blood of some special magical creature, otherwise she would not unconsciously exude that kind of temperament, I advise you to be more sober."

The time was approaching evening, and the sky was slowly getting dark. Sherlock took Harry directly to the warm bar recommended by the old witch Garrel, and walked in.

The warm bar is just like its name, the atmosphere inside is really 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 sat down, ordering two steaks and a bottle of red wine.

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

Harry waved his hands repeatedly to refuse, he just spit it out after tasting a sip of red wine in Saumur last time, it was not at all the taste of grape juice he imagined.

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

When they were halfway through eating, Harry suddenly touched Sherlock's arm, motioning 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, and 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 around, tapped Harry's plate with his fork, and reminded him.

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

"She should be a student of Beauxbatons." Although Harry turned his attention back to the steak, it was obvious that his mind was still on that fascinating girl.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"How did you know?"

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

Harry gestured to Sherlock with his eyes, and Sherlock looked in the direction his eyes pointed, and sure enough, he saw the cross emblem of Beauxbaton's two golden wands on the sleeve of the girl's robe.

Sherlock shrugged at him, signaling that he'd better eat honestly.

I ate a lot of delicious food in France recently, and both Sherlock and Harry's stomachs were stretched a bit.

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

"Where are we going next, Professor?" Harry asked, chewing his snails.

Taking advantage of this time, Sherlock took out the map of France that he had been carrying all along, and looked at their next travel route.

"Well, then we will go north, and if we continue south, we will reach Spain. We will go around from the northeast of Switzerland, go to Lyon, Geneva, and then visit the small town of Interkena, and finally go to Spain. To Paris."

"Is there enough time for us?"

"Of course there is time, as long as we arrive at the residence of Nicolome in Paris before August, before that, we can go anywhere."

While they were chatting, a somewhat arrogant but light-hearted voice suddenly interjected and asked in English with a strong French accent.

"Are you also planning to go to Mr. Nick Flamel?"

Sherlock and Harry turned their heads 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 answer the conversation immediately.

But after seeing Sherlock's gaze, he bowed his head guiltyly and drank the onion soup again.

Sherlock dissuaded Harry with his eyes, and he looked at the girl expressionlessly.

"Excuse me?"

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

"Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons sixth grader."

Sherlock nodded.

"Invited by an elder, we are indeed going to Paris to find Monsieur Nico Flamel."

"Excuse me! Sir, miss, sorry, excuse me!"

At this time, a goblin in a gray robe passed between their two tables, and accidentally bumped into Fleur's chair during the process.

Sherlock frowned slightly and looked at the goblin who walked by, but didn't make a sound.

Fu Rong continued to speak enthusiastically.

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

When she said this, Sherlock had stood up from his seat, he put on his coat, and picked up Harry, who was pretending to be drinking onion soup but actually listening to Fleur with his ears up. .

"Sorry, Miss Delacour, we have something to leave first." While speaking, Sherlock glanced at the goblin who was walking towards the fireplace quickly, "I suggest you check yourself before you leave. Is there something important missing, good luck to you in the end."

Saying that, Sherlock dragged the dazed Harry out of the bar.

Finally, before Harry left, he looked at the girl named Fleur with pity.

"Professor, are you sincere in your blessing to Miss Delacour just now?"

After leaving the bar, Harry asked after Sherlock.

Sherlock curled his lips.

"That unlucky bastard was stolen and didn't know it. Of course, I sincerely hope that she will have good luck in the future."

Harry could only mourn Fleur in private.

What a poor girl to lose something and be cursed.

(End of this chapter)