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

Chapter 202
Sherlock has been in this world for more than two years. In addition to learning spells, he has also done a lot of research on the history of the magic world.

Especially about the history of Hogwarts.

Legend has it that the four wizards and wizards who founded Hogwarts left precious 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 Poet", it could not be true.

But since Gryffindor can leave a sword, the other three founders may not leave any valuable relics.

Now placed on the wooden shelf of the Lestrange family treasury, the carved gold cup of the little badger naturally reminded Sherlock of Helga Hufflepuff who founded Hufflepuff College!
If the crescent imprint on his arm can react, it must be a Horcrux.

And for someone as arrogant as Voldemort, even if he was making Horcruxes, would it be possible for him to use those mediocre and unknown things?
Hufflepuff's gold cup can make him a Horcrux, Gryffindor's sword has always been protected by Dumbledore, and the relics of Ravenclaw and Slytherin may not have been taken by Voldemort. He is hiding in an unknown place.

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

There was a smile on the corner of his mouth, this trip to Gringotts was not in vain.

He didn't mean to touch the golden cup with his own hands. Even if the Fire Curse and Copy Curse were triggered, Sherlock could solve it, and it wouldn't cause any harm to him, but that would alarm the Griphook who was guarding the door.

He directly used the control magic, took the golden cup from the wooden stand, 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 set his sights on those gold and silver treasures at this time.

He doesn't think much of these wealth, but he doesn't want to keep it in this vault.

It will be a matter of time before Voldemort makes a comeback. If Bella and the others escape from Azkaban, the money will definitely fall into their hands if they stay here.

Of course, Sherlock would not do such a disguised act as an enemy, but now he does not have the ability to take all these treasures away at once.

I just randomly picked a few from it, and I plan to take them back and study the Blazing Curse and Copying Curse carefully, and come back after I find a way to break these spells.

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

"Have you got what you need, sir."

As Griphook asked, he glanced at the vault out of the corner of his eye, but found no signs of the protective spell being triggered inside.

"Should I report to Gringotts if I took anything?" Sherlock's attitude was still very bad, of course it would be strange if his attitude suddenly changed for the better.

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

"No, of course not, sir."

They climbed back into the trolley, and did not speak any more until they were back in the Gringotts Great Hall, where Griphook bowed and sent him off.

The old goblin, who was carefully weighing the gem with a balance, glanced at Griphook who came to rest.

"Is there any problem with this Lestrange family?"

Griphook nodded.

"Indeed the Lestranges."

"Unexpectedly, there are still people in this family who have not been arrested in Azkaban."

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

After Sherlock left Gringotts, he didn't stay in Diagon Alley, and directly used Apparition to return to Hogwarts.

Withdrawing the disguise on his face, he did not go back to his office or go to find Dumbledore, but took the gold cup to the depths of the Forbidden Forest, in front of Eddie's grave.

This place is very remote and far away from the territory of the centaur, so there is no need to worry about being disturbed by anyone.

Sherlock took the golden cup out of the wooden box, drew out his wand, and tapped on the cup carefully.

The copy spell and 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 lose their effect.

Sherlock carefully observed the reaction of the spell, and found that these two spells were actually effective only by relying on the existence of Gringotts. Once things left the range of Gringotts, it was a bit tricky for him. The spell will lose its effect.

This undoubtedly saved Sherlock a lot of energy.

He didn't stay any longer, and stretched out his hand to the golden cup.

The crescent moon imprint on the left arm produced an obvious burning sensation, and Sherlock hurriedly recited the spell before he came, and a cold black mist suddenly rose from the golden cup as if he had a premonition of something!

Sherlock is no stranger to this black mist, because he has experienced it himself just a few days ago.

The black mist filled the top of the golden cup, and soon formed a handsome but extremely ferocious face!
"Do you know what you're 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 to say?" He asked flatly.

The Horcrux itself doesn't actually have any fighting power or words. The diary that raged at Hogwarts for so long last year absorbed the energy of both Neville and Percy, and in the end they can all manifest in reality, so there is only manipulation. The basilisk is just a skill, so even if she saw Voldemort, Sherlock didn't worry about anything.

Seeing that Sherlock showed signs of communicating with him, the ferocious face suddenly became calm.

That unique, bewitching voice sounded from the black mist.

"What you want is nothing more than the most powerful power. This is what we have in common, Sherlock. Come to me. Find me who is slowly recovering my strength, and I will give you everything you want. Nothing is impossible. If you are willing to rely on me, you can learn all the knowledge in the entire wizarding world at will. What can that old guy Dumbledore give you? There are only a few illusory nonsense. If you like Hogwarts Ci, I can even make you the future principal here, as long as you are willing to submit 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, and it is not easy to become a master of Occlumency just by learning it casually.

Under normal circumstances, his current level is definitely sufficient, but Voldemort is Voldemort after all, even if it is just a remnant soul in the Horcrux, he has an extremely powerful instigmatization ability.

Except for Sherlock deliberately keeping the most perfect deep memory, he can see clearly the other insignificant ones.

"Well, it sounds really good." He didn't let go of the golden cup, but nodded with an expression on his face, "But I want to ask you for something right now."

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

"As long as it is what you want, I can give you! Power! Knowledge! Wealth! Women! Power! Everything! Allegiance to me, Sherlock!"

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

"Since 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 unnecessary nonsense to him, and softly recited an obscure incantation.

A burst of gray light suddenly lit up where his hand touched the golden cup!
The moment the light came on, the remnant of Voldemort in the golden cup finally realized what he wanted to do!
"This magic. Who taught you!"

He screamed, and the anxiety and fear contained in that voice could be heard by anyone.

"How dare you! Do you know what you're doing! Do you know what you're doing!"

Sherlock's face was cold, and he didn't pay attention to him.

The gray light has completely enveloped the entire golden cup, and the black smoke extending from the golden cup was forcibly squeezed by a force, as if a pair of invisible big hands were clapping Voldemort's remnant soul in their palms and rubbed them non-stop. , kneading him into a slender silk thread!

"You devil! You must die! Devil!!!"

Voldemort's final scream grew fainter, and finally fell silent.

Sherlock felt astonishingly hot on his arm, but he was in no mood to care about it at this moment. The feeling of absorbing Voldemort's remnant soul in the diary for the first time flooded his heart again.

And this time it is much stronger than last time!
His whole body was suspended in the air, with Sherlock as the center, within a radius of ten meters, it seemed that everything had stopped all movement!
The leaves falling from the branches with the wind are still in mid-air, the ants moving on the ground are motionless, even the wind has stopped, but ten meters away, everything is as usual, like two different worlds .

At this moment, Sherlock felt that he was the master of everything in the world!
The boss is his second child!

What Voldemort, a noseless old goblin who barks impotently.

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

Sherlock, who was floating in mid-air, slowly opened his eyes.

In his originally blue eyes, a golden light shone!

The radiance was so breathtaking, but no one saw it right now.

And in Sherlock's own perception, he became extremely miraculous.

It was a kind of indescribable wonder, he couldn't express anything, but he could directly try to control it.

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

The wind kept blowing, the leaves kept falling, and the ants kept moving, as if they never stopped, always have been.

He gently stretched out one of his hands, without seeing the slightest movement, without swinging his staff or casting spells, just a simple thought popped up in his mind.

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

It's like a ball of plasticine, which can be reshaped according to his ideas at will.

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

The tree transformed a dozen times according to his thoughts in an instant.

But there seems to be more than that.

The thoughts in Sherlock's heart moved slightly, and an explosion sounded not far away, kicking up a piece of soil on the ground, and then a bird passing by the treetops suddenly fell unconscious and fell on the soft grass. A sneaky mouse suddenly jumped up and danced uncontrollably!
The next moment, it seemed like something was blowing past.

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 panic.

Sherlock looked at his hand blankly, and when he was in a daze, his body suddenly fell to the ground.

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

When he "eat" Voldemort's remnant soul in the diary last time, because of the serious injury on his body, Sherlock didn't really feel the feeling of the soul sewing up during this period.

But now he truly and fully experienced it.

The feeling is indescribable, as if he has become the absolute master of the local area.

All laws must be manifested according to his will, and no matter how things change, he must nod and agree!
Sherlock, who had returned to normal, sat on the ground with a thoughtful expression, reminiscing about the feeling just now.

But soon he recovered from his contemplative state and shook his head.

No matter how powerful he was at that time, he was still not his own strength. There was no benefit in indulging in it, but it made him forget his fundamental purpose.

After thinking about it, he breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that his current mental state was better than ever.

He pulled out his wand and waved it at a small grass beside him, and that grass collapsed into countless grass clippings in an instant.

This is a silent shattering spell, and Sherlock can clearly feel that the strength of the spell he directly used has increased a lot compared to before.

Then he spread out the domain of control.

Although it was still within the limit range of ten meters, it clearly made him aware of 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 the control of magic itself to complete some not too esoteric spells.

Without swinging his staff, Sherlock looked up at a Bowtruckle climbing up a branch, and whispered a spell.

"It's all petrified."

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

(End of this chapter)