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

Chapter 32 The Bar Rally

It was Hagrid who greeted Sherlock.

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

At the table where Hagrid was sitting, besides him, there were Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and a fat old man whom Sherlock had never met.

He has a round bald head, a walrus-like beard and a big belly, with a friendly smile on his face, making him seem like a friendly person at first sight.

Their seats are in front of the window, and through the glass, you can just see the rainwater falling from the eaves outside. It is the most suitable place for drinking on rainy days in the whole bar.

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

Ever since Sherlock appeared in the bar, the fat old man with the walrus beard had been staring blankly at his face.

"It's really like that."

He whispered softly, making everyone sitting here except Sherlock 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 sniffled 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 handsomeness comes from your father. My name is Horace Slughorn, who used to be your mother's teacher and best friend, you can also call me by my first name directly, no need to be offended."

Sherlock looked at the fat old man with a friendly face, and nodded slightly without saying too much.

The scene fell into an embarrassing silence for a while, so in class, the humorous Professor Flitwick spoke at the right time to enliven the atmosphere.

"Listening to the recent reactions of the students, you did a great job this week as a professor, Sherlock."

"I just did my job well." Sherlock said neither humble nor overbearing.

Hagrid laughed heartily.

"Being able to do a good job in the position of a professor is already a very good thing. None of your previous colleagues performed as well as you. When Harry and the others came to play with me, they talked a lot about you. Classes are fun."

He was not only praising, but also faintly envious in his tone.

Among the people sitting here, he is the only one who does not have a professorship. Except for Sherlock, the other three are either the former dean or the current dean.

"This reminds me of my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when I was the dean of Hogwarts—the old fellow Melas."

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

"He is one of the most serious and responsible professors I have ever met, but he is too idealistic, always thinking that black magic is controllable, but fortunately, his defense skills are indeed good, and he did not fail during his teaching period. What a mess."

"I know his theories and have studied his works. He is indeed talented in teaching. Among the teachers with the highest achievements in Hogwarts education students, he can be ranked in the top ten, but I can't understand his attitude towards magic. agree."

Professor McGonagall said seriously, "He thinks about magic too objectively, and always thinks that all magic that exists has its value to be used. This kind of thinking is naturally taught to his students, and there are really big problems later. "

Flitwick said with relief: "It can't be said to be his fault. Academically, any constructive discussion can be made. As for everyone's understanding, in the final analysis, it is a question of that person's own thinking."

Slughorn laughed.

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

"I didn't mean that."

"I know you didn't mean that, just joking." Slughorn said, turning his gaze to Sherlock.

"I heard that you are Sherlock, a master who studies Defense Against the Dark Arts, what about you? What do you think about black arts?"

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

"This question can actually be asked in another way. After all, black magic is just a kind of magic. As long as it is magic, the spells are just appearances. The real core of magic lies in the heart of the wizard."

"And black magic is the dark side of the human heart. Magic is not good or bad, but the human heart is. At the moment when black magic is used, the user's heart must be extremely dark. The corruption of the human heart may lead to all disasters, so the greatest power of black magic The harm is instead its interference with the user, which is an unavoidable erosion.”

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

Hagrid was dumbfounded when he heard it, and he was also dumbfounded at this time, but in order to prevent himself from appearing out of the group, he also patted his big hand twice with a confused expression.

Flitwick admired.

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

"Even if you don't come to Hogwarts to be a defense professor, you will have a bright future in the wizarding world." Professor McGonagall said affirmatively.

"With the same excellent understanding of magic as your mother, if I were still the dean of Hogwarts, I would definitely invite you to join my club." Slughorn did not hesitate to praise himself.

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

After Sherlock made some remarks on the black magic at the beginning, he began to enter the mode of cherishing words like gold, silently observing Slughorn from the sidelines.

This old man who seems to be funny and friendly, actually doesn't have the same attitude towards everyone as he shows now.

During the chat, Sherlock could clearly feel that he seemed to be deliberately ignoring Hagrid.

That attitude obviously seemed to disdain Hagrid, a wizard without talent, knowledge and social status.

Near noon, when Sherlock and the other five had drank the third glass of wine in the glass, Slughorn suddenly smiled and said to Professor McGonagall and the three of them.

"It's getting late, and it's time for you to go back to have lunch. Minerva, I wonder if you can leave some private 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 Broomsticks bar.

(End of this chapter)